


Olive and an Arrow

by sadboykylo



Series: Pursuit of Happiness [1]
Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, American Politics, Bodyguard, Enemies to Lovers, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Gun Violence, Political Inaccuracies
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-10
Updated: 2019-01-04
Packaged: 2019-06-25 11:56:35
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 15
Words: 68,789
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15640263
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sadboykylo/pseuds/sadboykylo
Summary: Rey might be in love with Ben Solo. If only he wasn't her cautious bodyguard, and she wasn't the president's daughter.





	1. New Assignment

**Author's Note:**

> The eagle on the presidential seal clutched two vastly different objects: a bundle of arrows and an olive branch. Peace always came with war. The bad always came with the good. 
> 
> And sometimes that was easy to forget.

**Chapter One**

 New Assignment

⟵♡⟶

 

Traffic was an absolute monster. Roads were constantly detoured for demonstrations and marches, so investing in a Metro card was the best chance at survival in Washington D.C.. It was an otherwise quiet city. This was especially accurate in comparison to other Northeastern cities like New York, Philadelphia, or Boston.

 

It wasn’t terrible.

 

Every morning, Ben Solo would walk to the station at Connecticut Avenue and Dupont Circle to catch the red line. He’d find a quiet corner, pull out a book he rented from the library, and read for the time it took to reach H street and Madison Place.

 

Lately, Ben had found himself reading a lot more from the romance section. He blamed it on wanting to escape the sphere of political and economical philosophy that clouded his daily life, yet he would never admit that the cheesy parts tended to pull a heartstring into a lullaby.

 

His shoulder fell into the safety bars as the train came to a stop.

 

With a beep, the doors opened and Ben exited, his book tucked beneath his bicep. He climbed the stairway onto the street, immediately engulfed in an international tour group. In a foreign language, the woman described Lafayette Square and the history behind it.

 

Part of the perks of being a secret service agent was being bilingual.

 

 _“Perdoe-me,”_ Ben mumbled as he passed through.

 

On Pennsylvania Avenue, there was an entrance for all employees of The White House. Metal detectors, pat-downs, facial recognition, and K9 units was the typical ordeal. It was a part of the job and eventually you got used to arriving to work thirty minutes early to get through with no issues.

 

Every once in a while, Ben would forget his house key in his back pocket or his belt having a metal buckle.

 

Otherwise, he understood the enhanced security. It was the Leader of the Free World, afterall.

 

“Good morning, Solo.”

 

Ben glanced up from a bench. He was in the midst of tying his laces back onto his boots.

 

“Good morning, Tico. How was your sister’s wedding?”

 

“Beautiful,” she awed. “I’ve never been to Hawaii before.”

 

“Neither have I. By the photos you posted, you looked like you had a lot of fun.”

 

She handed Ben back his duffel bag after it processed through security.

 

“I heard about what you did overseas. Incredible work.”

 

“Thank you, Tico. Just doing my job.”

 

She smiled, rolling her eyes. Benjamin Solo could sweat self-confidence if he was able to.

 

“Lunch tomorrow at Blaze Pizza?” He asked.

 

“Deal. I’ll invite Hux.”

 

⟵♡⟶

 

There were very few places where Ben could let his guard down. He was enslaved to the disease of paranoia. Gunshots in movies made him jump. People watching him in public made him coil.

 

They were all side effects to the job.

 

Ben opened his locker, throwing his duffel bag inside. He pulled his belt tight around his waist. It was decorated in methodized weapons.

 

A mirror hung within the locker, staring back in silence. He took a moment to observe his clean-shaven face and the splatter of moles that speckled his face. His eyes slowly drifted to a photo. A magnet held it in place. It never moved.

 

_“Solo!”_

 

His ears perked up as heads glanced around the locker room.

 

“Yes, sir?”

 

“The boss requests you in the Oval Office.”

 

Every single eye landed on him. Beneath quiet exhales, he could hear whispers and snickers.

 

“On my way.” Ben glanced at the photo one last time before slamming his locker shut.

 

⟵♡⟶

 

The Oval Office was not as large as the photos on Google made it seem. The first few times entering the room had seemed like a dream to Ben. Between the flags, the Resolute desk, and the carpeting, it seemed like a movie set more than real life.

 

Nowadays, his enthusiasm was nonexistent. It had become protocol and just another room with four walls and a ceiling.

 

Ben stood in silence at the threshold as the man sitting in the desk wrapped up a phone call.

 

“Yes, yes, yes. Thank you, again. If it was not for the cooperation of your government, we would have never been able to stomp those inlets funneling the drugs into Miami.”  

 

On the other end, a voice responded just as nimbly. The man continued to nod.

 

“Of course. Have a great day and I look forward to speaking again.”

 

The chair swiveled from the windows as the man returned forward. He placed the phone down and cleared his throat before acknowledging the other inhabitants in the room.

 

His face grew into a flourishing smile at the sight of his top recruit.   

 

“Agent Solo.”

 

“Sir.”

 

“Please, take a seat.”

 

Ben eyed his colleagues; the other secret service agents within the confines of the office. They all stared straight ahead, minding to their earpieces that echoed intel. Ben unbuttoned the front of his suit before taking a seat across from the President of the United States.

 

“I’m sure you know why I’ve called you to the West Wing. Word travels quickly in these halls.”

 

“I have my suspicions.”

 

“I wanted to thank you for your courageous efforts in Belfast,” the President reached forward to straighten a pen on his desk. “Without your assistance, that situation could have plummeted very quickly. I owe you my life.”

 

“It was an honor, sir.”

 

“An honor that will not go unrecognized.”

 

Ben sat with a leg crossed over the other. He raised an eyebrow. “Sir?”

 

“I’m giving you a raise.”

 

Before Ben could sputter an acceptance or a thank you, he was interrupted.

 

“You’re getting a new assignment.”

 

Ben stammered. “A new assignment?”

 

Being a part of the President’s personal team of operatives was the most active part of the job. He didn’t watch the front gates or check identification cards for daily school tours. Instead, he traveled the world and got to shoot a gun every once in a while. It made life interesting.

 

A new assignment could jeopardize the very reason he loved his job.

 

“You saved my life in Belfast. That kind of courageous and altruistic behavior is rare to come by. It is why I am giving you the most important position in my security team.”

 

He swallowed hard. There was only one outstanding role at the moment.

 

“Your new assignment is to protect my daughter.”

 

The air in the room was vacuumed out. He could already hear the snickers from his colleagues.

 

Ben felt his heartbeat flutter like a caged animal. There was a reason that position was always open. It was where recruits went to lose pension or opportunities. The President had his inferior in an absolute chokehold.

 

He could use that extra money on his paycheck.

 

Rey Kenobi was the punchline to every joke in the locker room. She was the absolute bane to this Presidency and protecting the First Family from published controversy and retribute from dedicated voters.

 

“I had the previous recruit put together this file,” he slid a stack of folders across the Resolute desk. “You will find all the information you need here to keep my daughter safe.”

 

Ben accepted the folder, casually flipping through some of the pages. At the front, a small photo of Rey was held by a paperclip. She was smiling wide, a mouth full of braces, and her hair pulled into tight buns.

 

She was only fourteen when her family moved into the White House. The job was a lot easier back then.

 

Ben cleared his throat before addressing the President. He forced a smile.

 

“Where is your daughter now?”

 

⟵♡⟶

 

_Fffftttt._

 

The flesh of her thumb dug into the spark wheel, igniting the lighter against the joint that sat between her lips. Rey inhaled, her eyes rolling into the back of her head as she simultaneously fell into the cushion.

 

Across the room, her best friend stared at the ceiling.

 

Rey exhaled slowly, watching the smoke waft into a beautiful tango.

 

“When will your parents be home?”

 

“We’re fine. They’re in Nevada touring some gigafactory.”

 

Rey nodded. She slid onto the floor. The world around her melted, pulling her closer and closer to the core of the Earth.

 

“My dad,” she exhaled, her lips puckered. “Hired a new guard.”

 

Their heads rested beside one another as they laid in opposing directions on Finn’s bedroom floor. Their fingers raked through the carpet, the fabric feeling especially soft in their heightened state. Rey eyed the vibrant posters that decorated her friend’s ceiling. She noted that he particularly enjoyed classics from the seventies, the movie poster for _Coffy_ staring her back.

 

“How long do you think this one will last?” Finn withheld his laughter.

 

Rey exhaled. “He has a good track record. I give him two weeks, tops.”

 

She handed the joint to Finn, who clasped it between two fingers before taking a hit himself.

 

“Why did your dad fire the last one?”

 

Rey hummed at the memory. “Gregory? He lost me at the Women’s March so I had to take a Lyft home. It made national headlines.”

 

Finn clasped his lips together in silence, beckoning Rey to shift her head to better meet him.

 

They made eye-contact before concurrently detonating into a fit of laughter.

 

“Well,” Finn exasperated through the comedown. “At least he was fired. Most of them quit.”

 

Rey half-smiled. “He was at Belfast.”

 

“Oh?” Finn raised his eyebrows. “Did you look him up? Is he cute?”

 

She shrugged, her lips protruding to the side. “They’re all usually married anyway.”

 

“Don’t let Fox News get the scoop and you should be fine.”

 

“Just what my father needs,” Rey groaned. “His daughter the top headline on TMZ.”

 

“Wouldn’t be the first time,” Finn pointed out.

 

“Wouldn’t be the last, either.”

 

Finn choked on his inhale. He pounded his chest with a closed fist, his eyes watering from coughing and laughing at the same time.

 

The moment was lively.

 

Finn and Rey had met in private school. His parents were lobbyist for electric vehicles and have lived in the nation’s capital their entire lives. When Rey and her family moved here from Vermont for the election cycle, they quickly became attached to the hip. If Finn was getting into trouble somewhere, odds were Rey was closely behind.

 

Vice versa—as the media had cultured. The duo made headlines with the infamous New Years celebration in Times Square when they accidentally set a kitchen on fire.

 

> _“Of course they were not drinking,”_ the Press Secretary had addressed the hounds of reporters. _“They are only seventeen. They are not old enough to drink and they were not drinking at that party.”_

 

Rey had been six shots into a Svedka bottle. The secret service was sure all recorded intelligence of that little fact was wiped and six feet under.

 

Their laughter was interrupted from a pounding at the front door, followed by a refrain of doorbells.

 

“Coming!” Finn shouted. He pushed himself from the floor, whispering to his companion. “I thought you said you could hang?”

 

“I did,” Rey readjusted into a pretzel-style. “My dad said it was fine as long as I called for a charter back home.”

 

Finn sprayed a Febreeze bottle around his room in lengthy, dramatic spurtz. The fizz drifted throughout as he flapped his arms, wafting the lavender scent.

 

Another knock at the front door was far less patient this time.

 

“I said, _I’m coming!_ ” Finn shouted.

 

He glared at Rey before hurrying down his hallway to the front door.

 

Rey convoyed but remained at the bedroom doorway. The media did not know where her best friend lived, but it was still precautionary to stay out of view of the visitor. There had been too many close-calls at international hotels, in club lavatories and at airport waiting areas.

 

It was the scariest part of her father running the most controversial, yet active country in the world: her life was always threatened.

 

She held the lit joint behind her thigh, the ashe collecting on the ground by her bare foot.

 

“Who is it?” Rey called out.

 

Finn glanced back once more before cracking open the door. He glared out, meeting the chest of an opaque suit. His eyes slowly drifted up the height of the man, landing on darkened ray-bans.

 

Before he could fully take him in, his sunglasses were removed and tucked into the front pocket of his jacket, exposing an angular-face and grimace that was rather unconventionally attractive.

 

“Jay Finnerty, please stand aside.”

 

“It’s just Finn.”

 

“Finn, then.” The large man glared over his head, easily double in size. “Please move aside. I’m here for the First Daughter.”

 

“This is my property, man. Her dad said she was allowed to be here.”

 

“Please don’t make me go through you.”

 

Finn released a theatrical groan before opening the door wider. He already knew the game his friend’s security personnel played. They didn’t care about privacy or down-time. Rey was always ushered and supervised, never given a moment to breathe—let alone get high.

 

Some were too authoritative while others were unreliable.

 

Regardless, Rey was a loose canon and they all ran for the hills eventually.

 

“Thank you,” the man nodded before entering the apartment.

 

The address was given to him in the stack of intel about his newest assignment. It described all known information about Rey Kenobi, the First Daughter of the United States. A map pointed where she hung out, the places she often frequented, her favorite nightclubs and pizza places too. This address was the highest on the list and therefore, made his priority as he snuffed her out in the nation’s capital.

 

Snuffed. Literally.

 

His nostrils flared the moment his eyes landed on Rey and the joint at her thigh.

 

“Does your father know you smoke that?”

 

She walked out of Finn’s bedroom. It gave him a moment to take her all in.

 

He had only seen the President’s daughter on the television screen in his flat or on the front cover of a tabloid at his nearest Starbucks. Sometimes she would pass by in the hallways of the White House, yet she never glanced in the direction of security guards.

 

Instead, he had heard a lot about the President’s daughter.

 

She had quite a reputation in the security community.

 

Yet, he couldn’t help but eye the oversized tie-dye shirt she was wearing and the white converses on her feet. She looked like she came from Bonnaroo, not an international meeting with the Duchess of Cambridge.

 

“Your first day on the job and you’re going to tell my daddy that I smoke marijuana?” Rey pulled her hand to her lips, taking a hit from the joint.

 

The butt blazed red. She exhaled the smoke into his face.

 

“Time to go,” he didn’t falter. “You have dinner at Fiola with your mother tonight.”

 

Rey scoffed. “Italian? Again?”

 

“I will gladly stop at your favorite fast food restaurant on the way back.”

 

She paused. That was a new one.

 

“Are you trying to get me to like you?”

 

“I have no desire to win your affection. My only worry is your safety.”

 

“How charming,” Rey cooed sarcastically.

 

“Please grab your things so we can beat rush hour.”

 

“No police escort today?”

 

“Under my watch, you’ll be moving more quietly. Your car will look like any other Uber Black on the street. No more police escorts or helicopter rides to the bar.”

 

Rey nodded slowly, eyeing the stranger in Finn’s loft.

 

He was definitely starting off a lot more promising than the others.

 

“I enjoy helicopter rides.”

 

“We will have recreational time for you to fly in a helicopter, then.”

 

Finn released a chuckle. “Rey, I’ll go grab your bookbag.”

 

When he passed by, he shot Rey a knowing look. It was the same one she received when they passed a cute guy at international Peace dinners or charity events for nonprofits.  

 

The guy was definitely attractive and he knew his shit.

 

It was already a bonus that he hadn’t given Rey a migraine by now.

 

“We will stop back at the White House so you can get changed. Please be quick, we are already pushing time for the dinner.”

 

Rey glared at the man, who was nose-deep in his phone. All agents were given secured lines to discuss and plan for the evening.

 

“I expected you to have a Nokia.”

 

He glared. “Do you insult all your agents?”

 

“Who said owning a Nokia was an insult?” She sucked the inside of her cheek, desperate to hold in a giggle. If Finn was present, it would have been game over. “What’s your name anyway?”

 

“Agent Solo.”

 

“Your real name, genius.”

 

“You don’t need to know my real name. You will be Rey and I will be Agent Solo.”

 

“Can I give you a nickname?”

 

He threw his hands down to his side, shooting her a look that could kill. He had only been in her presence for five minutes and it was unbearable. He should start to look for new jobs.

 

“You can call me Agent Solo.”

 

“Okay, Ron Stoppable.”

 

“Cute,” he deadpanned.

 

Rey batted her eyelashes and placed a hand beneath her chin. “I’ve been told.”

 

Footsteps broke their banter and cut the air like a cake. From the hallway, Finn ambled into his living room and passed Rey her bookbag. She slipped it onto her back before shrugging.

 

“I guess, I’ll text you?” She held out her hand, the joint safely clasped between her fingers.

 

He shook his head. “Take it. You’ll need it for that dinner.”

 

Rey practically moaned. _God bless Finn and God bless America._

 

“Let’s go.”

 

With an eye-roll, Rey convoyed her newest security agent onto the patio. They walked down the front steps of the cobbled pathway and passed landscaped cherry blossom trees and koi ponds.

 

Finn lived in one of those neighborhoods they’d film movies in.

 

“Want a hit?”

 

His shoulders stiffened. “Excuse me?”

 

Rey exhaled. “You seem stressed out. You can finish the joint, if you want.”

 

“I’m good.”

 

“Are you sure?”

 

“Yes.”

 

“Are you really sure?”

 

“Get in the car,” he opened the back door for her.

 

“Are you really, really sure?”

 

“Get in the car,” he sighed. _“Please.”_

 

His voice hinted to the loss of patience. It only fed Rey more.

 

“Let me finish my smoke first.”

 

Before she could pull her hand up, he yanked the joint out of Rey’s palm, throwing it onto the ground. With a stomp, he smothered the nuisance to death against the asphalt.

 

“Enough games,” he abandoned the open door. She could close it herself. He walked around the hood of the blacked-out SUV to the driver’s side. “I’m not going to babysit you, Princess.”

 

Rey crossed her arms over her chest.  “I’m not a fucking princess. I’m the First Daughter.”


	2. Circled by Sharks

**Chapter Two**  

Circled by Sharks

⟵♡⟶

 

“Agent Solo pulling in.”

 

Rey’s ears perked up. She pressed the mechanism, lowering the partition that separated her from the front cabin of the blacked out vehicle.

 

He had one hand draped over the wheel while the other pushed against his earpiece. It wrapped around the shell of his ear, a long wired coil tucked into the collar of his suit.

 

In the rearview mirror, he took a moment to glimpse at her.  

 

After fetching the delinquent from her best friend’s house, she was rushed home and changed for the evening’s planned dinner. Her messy buns were replaced by a crown braid and makeup stained her lips a scarlet-red.

 

She looked nice.

 

“Yes. I have the Scavenger with me.”

 

“Why does my code name have to be Scavenger?” She groaned.

 

It wasn’t unusual for the agents to label their clients with code-names. It was for security measures and protection, especially when mobile.

 

His inspecting glance morphed into a glare. “Are you really going to ask me that question?”

 

“It was one time.” Rey leaned back in her leather seat, her arms crossed over the white _Chlo_ _é_ dress she shuffled into.

 

It wasn’t one time.

 

As a child when her father was sworn into office, Rey was notorious for getting into places and things she had no business being in. She’d wander through the rooms of the White House, dig in the South Lawn and meander off. 

 

The vehicle pulled along the curb, directly outside the restaurant.

 

“Wait here,” he instructed, opening the driver’s door.

 

Her eyes followed him as he rounded the car. She took note of the shear size of his frame, as he eclipsed the fluorescent headlights. He easily towered the pack of agents that conversed with him.

   

> **\- Rey | 8:05 PM -**
> 
> Agent Dickhead is so intimidating.
> 
>  
> 
> **\- Finn | 8:06 PM -**
> 
> Is he really that bad?
> 
>  
> 
> **\- Rey | 8:06 PM -**
> 
> He won’t let me breathe without his permission.
> 
>  
> 
> **\- Finn | 8:06 PM -**
> 
> You can handle him.
> 
>  
> 
> **\- Finn | 8:07 PM -**
> 
> They all crack eventually.

 

Her thumbs hovered the keyboard as she read Finn’s message. Before she could fashion a reply, a set of knuckles tapped her window.

 

Rey jumped, startled. She glared out the glass, thankful it was opaque on his end.

 

The door opened. “Your mom is sitting inside. The premises has been cleared.”

 

He held his hand out and Rey took a moment to glance at it. Her entire hand could easily fit in the palm of his, yet Rey could only note one detail: _no ring._

 

“Thank you,” Rey hummed.

 

She hopped from the backseat on her own accord, brushing past his extended arm. The secondary agents on his team ushered her inside before pedestrians took notice of her presence.

 

Ben stood on the sidewalk with his hand lingering in the air. He took a moment to collect himself before slamming her door and following the entourage into the marble building.

 

⟵♡⟶

 

Fiola was a fine dining Italian restaurant tucked on Indiana Avenue. The multicourse meal of traditional plates was equally satisfying as it was obnoxious.

 

“I need your measurements.”

 

Rey stabbed her ricotta cavatelli, dragging it through the tomato sauce. “For what?”

 

“We need to get some dresses tailored for the campaign tour.”

 

“I thought I was allowed to skip out on this one?”

 

Rey’s mother froze, her spaghetti hanging from her fork middair. The restaurant remained a melody of mandolin _plucking_ and expensive China _clinking_ together.

 

Satine Kenobi grew up in Texas.

 

At a young age, she knew she was a natural born leader. Perhaps it was her libra ascendent or the ambitious bloodline she originated from. Following her father’s footsteps, she became a politician. She was known as a feverous orator, with a sharp-tongue and unapologetic audacity.

 

Some would go as far as calling her a _nasty woman._

 

“Your father needs to sway Middle America into his favor if he is to win the re-election.”

 

“What does that have to do with me?”

 

“Family values are of a high importance.”

 

“It’s 2024,” Rey deadpanned. “No one has a nuclear family anymore.”

 

“We need to represent what the voters desire.”

 

“Says the acclaimed feminist,” Rey mumbled.

 

The table fell into a blanket of silence. The sweltering scowl of her mother was unavoidable. It launched itself over the table linens and scarcely eaten entrées.

 

“Disagreeing with your father does not justify your opprobrious and scandalous conduct,” Satine hissed beneath her breath. “You used to adore being the First Daughter of the United States and lately, you’ve been its biggest embarrassment.”

 

⟵♡⟶

 

On the second floor of the tiered restaurant, Ben ambled through the dining room.

 

He observed the tables and barstools of elitist and aristocrats. The expensive restaurant was a known hotspot for people with expendable wealth.    

 

Leaning against the mahogany railing, he watched Rey and her mother as they dined. Satine was speaking while Rey stared at her plate, noticeably fidgeting in her seat.

 

His eyes lingered on her for a moment before continuing in his scan.

 

Ben pressed his earpiece.

 

“Duchess and Scavenger acquainting. No disturbance on the second floor.”

 

⟵♡⟶

 

“Mom,” Rey clenched her fists beneath the table. “You don’t understand.”

 

“Help me understand.” She side-eyed the neighboring tables.

 

“I don’t have anything that is mine. Nothing belongs to me,” Rey stammered. “Not even my opinions or ideas.”

 

“You are very fortunate to be where you are right now.”

 

“And I would trade it all for absolutely nothing,” Rey blurted. She dropped her fork on the plate, disturbing the air with a clatter.

 

A few faces glanced their way. Satine nervously smiled in their direction before peering back at her daughter. Rey’s cheeks were flustered; her nostrils flaring. Through a clenched jaw, she seethed.

 

“Let’s not cause another scene. We can discuss this at home.”

 

“You’re not listening to me,” Rey complained before adding, “Again.”

 

“Rey.”

 

“All my friends are going to college. They are traveling the world and growing into their personalities. You put a bow on my head and threw me in front of an entire nation to play theater.” Rey’s voice escalated as she grew with agitation. “I can’t even hang out with Finn without your agents pounding on the door.”

 

“They are here to keep you safe,” Satine reminded her daughter. “They would take a bullet for you.”

 

The pulse in Rey’s wrist intensified at the reminder of Belfast. That wasn’t fair. It was deplorable.

 

“Please,” Rey begged. “I’m not a kid anymore.”

 

“If you’re not a kid, then why do you keep acting like one?”

 

⟵♡⟶

 

Ben detailed the restaurant, relaying the mental notes he kept.

 

The people at the bar spoke German.

 

The chandeliers swayed whenever a subway train passed beneath.

 

A group of bachelors were getting far too tipsy at the bar.

 

Someone was urgently rushing through the dining hall.

 

“Ten o’clock. Three-piece suit. Blonde hair.”

 

The agents babbled in the earpiece, collectively in acknowledgement of the suspicious person.

 

“I’m on it,” Ben announced in a husky voice. He sent a glance in Rey’s direction, noting her position before pursuing.

 

Through the maze of tables, he convoyed the figure who urgently made their way towards the back of the restaurant. Ben cut corners, his pace quickening discretely to decrease the distance between them without alarming the restaurant.

 

With a final glance over their shoulders, the skeptical dinner guest disappeared into the corridor for the lavatory and coat check.

 

Ben tucked his hand beneath his jacket, hovering over his holster.

 

An eruption of glass fracturing on the floor silenced the restaurant.

 

Simultaneously, he pivoted on his heels while pulling his weapon. His eyes scanned the dining room. Satine’s head was in her hands while pasta coated the floor surrounding her.

 

Alarmed by Rey’s vacant seat, he frantically pressed his earpiece.

 

“Who has eyes on the Scavenger?”

 

⟵♡⟶

 

Rey shoved her shoulder into the front door of Fiola, bursting onto Indiana Avenue. She collapsed onto the sidewalk, immediately blinded by the phosphorescent lights. Cameras flashed from every direction.

 

She held her palm over her eyes, staggering through.

 

A droplet of blood, she was circled by sharks.

    

> _Rey, look here!_
> 
>  
> 
> _Rey, do you agree with your father’s actions in Miami?_
> 
>  
> 
> _Do you endorse stricter drug laws?_

 

Shoving through the crowd to her idled vehicle, Rey reached out for any door handle. She yanked, realizing it was locked and she was trapped in the snake pit.

    

> _Smile for the camera here, Rey._
> 
>  
> 
> _Will we see anymore scandals on the horizon?_
> 
>  
> 
> _Do you hope your father wins his re-election?_

 

Desperate for shelter, Rey used her hands to maneuver. The crowd engulfed and suffocated her. Their shouting questions rolled over her lolling head as she grimaced, frantic to clutch onto anything stable.

 

She was alone. Absolutely, unquestionably alone.

 

Forlorn to this disaster, the darkness was more welcoming than the starry vision. Her eyesight begun to blur on the edges.

 

> _Will you be attending college?_
> 
>  
> 
> _Are you voting for your father?_
> 
>  
> 
> _Belfast, Rey, what about Belfast?_
> 
>  
> 
> _Are you drunk right now?_

 

The voices threaded together into single, jumbled sequences.

 

Rey felt her knees capitulate.

 

She fell forward, ready to collapse on the cement when an arm looped around her waist.

 

The crowd of reporters dispersed as more black suits joined her company on the street, their weapons drawn. The sharks backed off, swimming towards the barricades they had penetrated.

 

The tightened embrace hugged Rey's torso, dragging her towards the idled vehicle. She surrendered any fight against their chest.

 

Red and blue lights shimmered through the sliver of her opened eyelids.

 

The arms hugging her waist gave a squeeze, lifting her into the backseat of the car. Rey felt groggy, almost melting. Her eyes met his long enough to memorize the hue of them—a paint mixture of ivory and hazelnut.

 

His worrisome expression bore disappointment and failure.

 

He slammed her door shut and the world outside was silenced.

 

⟵♡⟶

 

In spite of the short ride back to The White House, it couldn’t have felt longer.

 

Outside, the orbs of streetlights and neon storefronts scintillated.

 

Snow-white knuckles grasped the steering wheel as he drove, his eyes staring straight ahead. Behind their vehicle, a police motorcycle accompanied the ride to avoid further commotion.

 

The first day on the job as her head of security and Rey was tackled by reporters. Awesome.

 

In the backseat, he could hear her muffled whimpers. Any manifestations of a breakdown were concealed. At a redlight, he fiddled with an already shitty situation to steal a glance at her.

 

Mascara ran her cheekbones and her lipstick was smeared from the back of her hand she dragged across it. Now she was tugging on her hair to yank the tangled braids from her crown. Her movements harsh and sloppy.

 

The light glimmered green and he asserted his attention back on the road.

 

“Are you okay?”

 

“What?” Rey blurted. Her hair was still half-up and in her face.

 

“Are you okay? Did they touch you?”

 

“I’m fine, everything is fucking fine.” She jabbered in a sarcastic tone.

 

“Why did you leave the restaurant?” With a blinker, he turned onto Pennsylvania Avenue.

 

“Excuse me?” Rey struggled to collect her words. “And where the fuck were you?”

 

“I was investigating a potential threat.”

 

“The threat that attacked me on the sidewalk?”

 

“No.”

 

“Isn’t it your job to keep me safe?”

 

His grip stiffened more, as if it could, his jaw clenching and unclenching.

 

“I can’t keep you safe if you decide to go on an evening walk all by,” his voice suddenly grew in turbulence, _“your fucking self.”_

 

At the security clearance, the gate lifted and guards gestured for their vehicle to enter the driveway that wrapped around the front of The White House.

 

“Well, I’m probably already plastered all over the twenty-four hour news cycle. Add that to the list of reasons why my father won’t get reelected. So, thank you for that.”

 

He slammed on the brakes and the vehicle screeched to a stop. Rey flew forward, hitting the front seat. With shaking arms, she steadied herself.

 

A glare that hard could turn him into stone.

 

“This is no one’s fault, but your own.” 

 

“I guess we’ll just see what my dad has to say about that.”

 

Rey tugged at the handle of her door, quickly escaping the tension of the vehicle. No one had ever done that before. Not her parents, not the press secretary, her assistant, or the numerous past agents she had skated through.

 

Everyone circumnavigated Rey through life. No one ever told her otherwise.

 

Ownership of responsibilities and aberrations was not her forte.

 

“Rey,” he shouted after her, his voice almost straining. “Get back in the car.”

 

“It’s Scavenger, remember?”

 

The door whammed shut behind her.

 

Through the window glass, he watched her run up the front steps of the President’s residency.


	3. Groovy

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger warning: mild homophobic slur.

**Chapter Three**

Groovy

⟵♡⟶

  

> **_BREAKING NEWS._ **
> 
>  
> 
> _Trouble on Capitol Hill with the Kenobi family—once again._
> 
>  
> 
> _Last night on Indiana Avenue, The First Lady and Daughter were enjoying a lavish dinner at a renown Italian restaurant when a commotion started._
> 
>  
> 
> _Eyewitnesses at the scene told CNN that the two family members arrived in separate vehicles and sat in the middle of the main dining room with other guests._
> 
>  
> 
> _The President was not in attendance._
> 
>  
> 
> _“Everything seemed okay. They were having a conversation and minding their own business. Next thing I knew, the daughter—Rey—knocked all the silverware off the table. Her plate went flying and it shattered on the floor. Almost everyone looked over and by then, she was already storming out the front door.”_
> 
>  
> 
> _“And The First Lady?”_
> 
>  
> 
> _“Oh, God, she looked utterly embarrassed. She refused to look anyone in the eye and apologized to the waiter multiple times.”_
> 
>  
> 
> _Our reporters caught Rey Kenobi leaving the restaurant without any security personnel. She was surrounded by reporters and refused to answer any questions. Multiple broadcast channels have reported that she seemed disoriented and nearly fell several times._
> 
>  
> 
> _We are not sure if the First Daughter, who turned eighteen in April, was intoxicated. The chef, a known family friend to the Kenobi’s, refused to comment on the matter._

 

“Intoxicated?”

 

Rey chucked her remote across the room.

 

It banged against wall and she screamed.

 

“Absolute—fucking—BULLSHIT!”

 

She seethed through gritted teeth, her eyes bulging at the television screen that sat on a white Victorian era dresser. Every single channel she had flipped through was reporting her obscene—and apparently, drunken—meltdown at a five starred restaurant.

 

“I wasn’t even drinking, I was with my own fucking mom and she’d have my head!”

 

Rey groaned, throwing herself onto her mattress and dozens of pillows. She muffled a scream, exerting as much anger as she could.

 

Suddenly, she heard Agent Solo’s voice.

 

Only it wasn’t in her bedroom, but coming from the television.

   

> _“Back away! Now! Get away from her! You know you aren’t allowed this close!”_
> 
>  
> 
> _The First Daughter was entirely by herself on the Washington D.C. sidewalk for about an entire minute until Secret Service came out of the restaurant and broke through the crowd. We are unsure why Rey was unaccompanied._
> 
>  
> 
> _The leading Agent on the scene, Agent Solo, was the same operative that worked alongside President Obi Kenobi in Belfast._

 

The newsroom suddenly changed to a montage of clips. They were all too familiar. Rey had already seen these same clips on every channel, had heard it on every airwave, and have been instructed on what to say about it. The anxiety from the emergency operations room crept in.

 

Well, more like, the bunker.

 

Northern Ireland.

 

The Assembly building.

 

Screaming people.

 

In a single lurch, Rey jumped across her room and turned the power off her flat screen. The only thought she could process was Agent Solo and the consequences of her actions.

 

⟵♡⟶

 

The air in the Oval Office was reticent. Ben stared at the President of the United States, who stared back. The Resolute desk was covered in today’s newspapers. Every front cover was a poorly photographed image of Rey outside the restaurant.

 

The President released a lengthy sigh. He fell back in his chair and pinched the bridge of his nose as he collected his thoughts.

 

Ben toyed with his thumbs awkwardly.  

 

The last time he was in this office was yesterday—when he took the job.

 

“If I may,” he started.

 

The President shook his head. “Don’t.”

 

“She ran out.”

 

“I’m aware. Satine told me everything.”

 

“I noticed a suspicious person. They caught the team’s attention.”

 

“Did you get them?”

 

“Well,” he drifted off before looking down. “No.”

 

“What did they look like? Were they approaching the girls?”

 

“I already retrieved the security cameras from the restaurant and I filed a case with the service and the police. Everyone has been tipped off.”

 

It was standard procedure when a private citizen raised a red flag. Whether it was some form of an attack or food poisoning, they had to take precaution. The downside was the commotion Ben had been deterred from in the process.

 

“Good.”

 

Ben watched his boss throw the papers into a trash bin beside his desk. He sat, waiting for the letter of resignation signed by the President, yet he carried on to a stack of confidential folders.

 

“Sir?”

 

The President glanced over the opened file, “Yes?”

 

He stammered, trying to formulate a response. His eyes danced around the room, refusing to land on the man across the desk.

 

“Benjamin, you’re not fired.”

 

A wave of relief coarsed over Ben’s body. His heart could have jump from his chest had it not been for his ribcage that concealed it.

 

“I’m not?”

 

“No. I recognize my daughter isn’t the easiest to control and although last night was not perfect, you still played damage control correctly.”

 

“I promise it will not happen again, sir.”

 

“Rey is still trying to acclimate to the high security protocol.”

 

“That’s understandable. She almost lost her father.”

 

The President glanced away at the reminder. He sighed, extending an arm to the agent he trusted the most on the force.

 

The doors to the Oval Office flew open, interrupting everything in a commotion. Their heads concurrently turned to Rey, still in her sleepwear, who stood at the door. She was more of a hurricane bouncing between islands.

 

“Dad, please do not fire Agent—!”

 

Rey froze.

 

Her father donned amusement, his hand outstretched to Agent Solo.

 

“Did I—?” She stammered, stepping back. “Interrupt something?”

 

A familiar feeling coated her—the one she got at the mention of Ireland.

 

On the desk, the international hotline started to ring but Rey’s father dismissed it entirely.

 

“Nevermind,” she smiled timidly.

 

Rey pivoted on her feet and immediately returned to the hallway she was sprinting through moments ago. She didn’t get far enough before he was hot on her heel.

 

“That stunt you pulled last night could have gotten you hurt.”

 

He kept his eyes facing forward and not on Rey, who was wearing silk pajamas and oversized fuzzy slippers. Side-by-side, they marched down the wing to the main lobby.

 

“I know.”

 

“My job is to protect you. If you want to do something, or go somewhere—just tell me. I will be there for you.”

 

“I realize that and I’m— _wait._ ”

 

Agent Solo stopped in his tracks. He didn’t like the tone of her voice and the ominous expression on her face was just as troubling.

 

“What?” He questioned.

 

“Tonight. Can you take me and Finn somewhere?”

 

The resonance of her voice went from apologetic to louring. Her entire approach was evolving.

 

“Where?”

 

“Its eighties night at the club.”

 

“You are,” he shook his head and started to walk away, “absolutely insane.”

 

“Oh, come on.”

 

He could hear the scurry of her feet as she struggled to keep up. With each single step he took, she easily jogged four tiny steps behind him. The corridor was full of rushing politicians and representatives. In passing of Rey, they glared at their feet.

 

“I promise we will behave.”

 

“You are not going to a club.”

 

“We go every month. Even Gregory took us!”

 

“And now he’s searching for jobs on Craigslist.”

 

Rey shoved herself in front of Agent Solo, blocking the entrance to a doorway.

 

“You literally just said you would go somewhere if I asked. You just said you’d be there.”

 

The moment of silence between them wasn’t particularly dolorous, but it wasn’t encouraging either. She was way too close for comfort. He towered her, easily. Yet she remained flat-footed with her arms crossed and her chin raised.

 

“Fine,” he surrendered.

 

He nudged into her as he passed by, pushing on the door.

 

“Wait,” Rey called out.

 

His shoulders stiffened. “Yes?”

 

“You’ll need an outfit!”

 

He glared over his shoulder. “My suit won’t do?”

 

“Have a little fun. I’m sure you have some clothes in your closet from the eighties.”

 

He clenched his jaw. “I’m only twenty-eight.”

 

_Oh._

 

Rey forced a smile. “Well then.”

 

In her head, she did the mental math. He was born in 1996. He was a 90s baby.

 

That was close enough, right?

 

“I’m sure you’ve got something.”

 

Agent Solo rolled his eyes, shoving into the locker room. He abandoned Rey to her silent rejoice.

 

⟵♡⟶

   

> **\- Rey | 3:07 PM -**
> 
> We’re on for tonight.
> 
>  
> 
> **\- Finn | 3:08 PM -**
> 
> He said yes?
> 
>  
> 
> **\- Rey | 3:09 PM -**
> 
> He doesn’t really have a choice.
> 
>  
> 
> **\- Finn | 3:10 PM -**
> 
> Radical.
> 
>  
> 
> **\- Finn | 3:10 PM -**
> 
> I’ll be ready by nine.

 

⟵♡⟶

 

Strings of cheese elongated from the slice. Ben extended his arm into a stretch in hopes that the dairy would eventually give. He chewed furiously, the cheddar now completely pulled from the dough and hanging from his teeth.

 

Hux slid a stack of napkins across the table.

 

“Thanks,” Ben mumbled through the food he was in the midst of chewing.

 

“You’ve got a little,” Tico gestured to her chin, wavering her hand, “something.”

 

Picking at the stack of napkins, he wiped his mouth clean of grease and cheese before chewing on the slice of tomato sauce.

 

“So.”

 

Ben continued to chew, disregarding Tico’s comment.

 

“Sooooo,” Hux added.

 

“Are we going to discuss the elephant in the room?”

 

Ben paused, his cheek protruding a ball of chewed up lunch. His eyes alternated between Hux and Tico’s pondering expressions. The two agents were a part of Ben’s recruitment class. They went to camp and trained together, all being appointed to roles at The White House.

 

He swallowed. “What are you talking about?”

 

“You accepted the most unstable job on the force and you have nothing to say?” Tico placed a hand under her chin, leaning against the tabletop. “Everyone is talking about it.”

 

“I mean,” Ben crumbled up his napkin and threw it onto the empty plate. “I expect this job to be rocky, no matter where I am placed.”

 

“Security at the front gate is a breeze,” Tico commented.

 

“No problems on the North Lawn,” added Hux. “Perhaps an occasional selfie stick passing the fence.”

 

“It’s fine.”

 

“What about the incident last night?”

 

“My impression is,” he scooted further against the table. “Rey has had a streak of inexperienced agents by her side. With the right direction, she can finally start enjoying herself.”

 

“I always thought she was just a brat,” Hux shrugged.

 

That seemed to be the common conjecture.

 

Ben flung a glare in his direction, which Hux returned with raised arms and a quiet apology.

 

The conversation flipped like a coin.

 

His cheeks were clearly warming to the temperature of his stern look. Silence lingered on the table momentarily as he exhaled, releasing his clamped fist beneath the table.

 

“Do any of you know where I can get a tracksuit?”

 

Tico nearly choked on her soda.

 

“A tracksuit?” Hux questioned.

 

“Preferably with an obnoxious color.”

 

“Uh,” Tico side-eyed Hux. “Maybe The Goodwill?”

 

⟵♡⟶

 

Agent Solo reclined against the hood of his assigned car.

 

From every direction, he could hear snickers from this colleagues.

 

Immediately following graduation from high school, Ben enlisted in the Marines. Overseas, he spent long aggravating months underneath the brutal sun training and working out. Returning home from a medical discharge, he joined the Secret Service after Kenobi took office. The climb up the ladder was demanding, yet, he found himself going from night shifts to accompanying the President on Air Force One international missions.

 

Now, he stood outside The White House in a tacky jumpsuit from the eighties. 

 

This was definitely the hardest job yet.

 

The sound of her heels clanking on the ground grew closer and closer upon approach.

 

“Oh, my God.”

 

He froze, taking her in.

 

Rey looked like she walked out of _The Breakfast Club_. Her hair was half-up in a pink scrunchie and she wore loose harem pants with a black leather jacket. The makeup she wore was colorful and not particularly appropriate for the galas and red carpet events she typically attended.

 

“I didn’t think you’d actually do it.”

 

“Do what?” He responded, astounded.

 

“Dress up for the club.”

 

He slowly processed what she said. His mind was still fixated on her appearance. Slowly, he gazed down at his own apparel and the tacky tracksuit he managed to scout out on the clearance rack.

 

“I take this job seriously.” He seethed. “I am undercover.”

 

Her eyebrows rose higher and higher as he tried to explain himself.

 

“I mean, is it too much?” He asked.

 

Before she could speak again, he was on a tangent about how long it look him to find the outfit.

 

“You look groovy,” she interrupted.

 

“Excuse me?”

 

She shrugged. “Groovy.”

 

⟵♡⟶

 

Rey shoved her head through the partition. “Can I have the AUX cord?”

 

“We’re almost at Finn’s.”

 

“Please,” she curled her bottom lip. “I made an eighties playlist.”

 

“You seriously listen to that music?”

 

"Power ballads never lose their juice. That’s the whole point,” she plugged the cord into her phone. On the control panel of the car, her Apple Play loaded. “There will never be an era as iconic as the eighties.”

 

Rey pressed play and _Billie Jean_ by _Michael Jackson_ started to play through the speakers.

 

In the backseat, she nodded her head to the beat while she tapped away on her phone.

   

> **\- Rey | 9:12 PM -**
> 
> He actually dressed up, I’m fucking crying.

 

Agent Solo placed his foot on the brake. “We’re here.”

 

Diligently, he examined as Rey climbed from the backseat and up the cobbled steps of Finn’s driveway. She knocked on the door a few times but the illumination of the vehicle’s control panel stole his attention. A text message popped up on the screen.

   

> **\- Finn | 9:14 PM -**
> 
> OMG. Does he look cute tho?

 

He felt his heartbeat thump in his own eardrum as he stared at the message from Finn. It sat on the notification bar for a few moments before disappearing. It was long enough for him to read.

 

On the patio, Finn was already locking his door. He was wearing a full-on, high quality Top Gun jumpsuit. He even had the patches in the appropriate places. Him and Rey shared glances and concealed small fits of laughter as they walked back to the car.

 

His ears were starting to turn red as he gripped the steering wheel.

 

Anything—absolutely anything—would be better than this job.

 

Finn opened his own door, “Play Danger Zone!”

 

⟵♡⟶

 

 _Back to the Future_  was a barcade tucked on a quiet street in the museum district. It wasn’t searchable on Google and most promotion was done through word-of-mouth. Closed to invitation only, it was the perfect location for the kids of Capitol Hill to party without publicity. Most regulars at the joint were college students or, better yet, kids with way too much pressure on their shoulders and the desire to just let loose.

 

The exterior looked like any other residency—a heavy gated door and stone front. The only clue to exclusivity was the bouncer that hid in the shrubbery and requested an identification card at the entrance.

 

“That’s it right there,” Rey pointed up the block.

 

“Seriously?”

 

“Maz usually lets us park right in front, in the loading zone.”

 

Agent Solo reversed the vehicle, parallel parking against the curb. He squeezed in-between other two blacked out vehicles easily on the first attempt before glancing over the partition at them. “Who is Maz?”

 

Rey was applying fresh mascara but paused to laugh.  

 

Finn smiled sheepishly to himself. He mumbled, “Oh boy.”

 

⟵♡⟶

 

Outside, a group of college students waited to enter the club. The line practically wrapped around the corner, into an alleyway.

 

The moment they joined the crowd on the street, Agent Solo could feel his anxiety tense. They weren’t attacking them like the reporters outside the restaurant, but they were catching glances from students that recognized their faces.

 

“Do we have to wait?” Finn asked.

 

“No,” Rey shoved her phone into her jacket’s pocket. “Maz knows we are coming.”

 

“I didn’t realize _Yuppies_ frequented this part of town.”

 

Finn pivoted on his feet immediately to meet the comment. It wasn’t groundbreaking to be called spoiled in public. It was, however, ironic. The demographic of the club were almost always well-educated, career-driven socialites.

 

“Leave it,” Rey ordered.

 

Finn’s stiff shoulders lowered a few levels.

 

The bouncer opened the door to grant them access. They didn’t need to flash an identification card. It would be a waste of time to check for their names. He already knew who they were.

 

⟵♡⟶

 

They might as well have stepped into a time portal.

 

Inside, blacklight and neon signs decorated the walls. An entire section was dedicated to retro arcade games while the dancefloor illuminated a grid of rainbow colors. The square panels took turns glowing with the beat of the song. Currently, the disco jockey was playing _Love Shack_. 

 

“There’s my two favorite people!”

 

Instinctively, Agent Solo shoved his way into her course.

 

The voice belonged to a feeble woman. She was short and for the occasion, wearing hot-pink spandex and leg warmers. Beneath Andy Warhol glasses, she narrowed her eyes. “Who is this boy?”

 

“Back down, tiger.”

 

Rey pushed past him to join the woman.

 

Agent Solo watched as Finn and Rey conversed with her. She must have been the character they had mentioned in the car ride over—the owner of the club. He took clairvoyant tabs of the building—particularly the peering partiers, the potential threats and closest exits.

 

A group of guys were eying them and in a soft glance, he detailed their entire physique. One was the same guy that made a comment out front. 

 

Maz Kanata was an entertainer.

 

Notoriously, too. All along the east coast, she owned arcades, nightclubs and taverns from Boston to Orlando. The eighties club in Washington D.C. was becoming her most successful and prized location.

 

Behind the bar, bottles sat on a shelving unit in the format of a Donkey Kong game. Beneath a black light, they glew fuschia. The seating area was full of colorful chairs in the shape of different Tetris blocks.

 

 _It was cute,_ Ben admitted.

 

If he was still young and dating, he would considering coming here.

 

“A gift,” Maz announced. Next to her, a waitress held out an unopened bottle of Ciroc.

 

Rey reached to grab it, but not before it was already in Agent Solo’s hands.

 

“No drinking,” he shook his head. “You’re eighteen and there are too many cameras.”

 

“Geez, dad.”

 

“Exactly. Your father is getting re-elected, may I remind you.”

 

Rey side-eyed Maz, who slowly started to back away from the stiff conversation.

 

“Can we not do this here?”

 

“You can play arcade games and you can dance. Do not leave my sight.”

 

Finn bit his lip in an attempt to conceal his laughter.

 

Her cheeks were on fire.

 

“Fine.”

 

“Fine.”

 

_“Fine.”_

 

Rey stormed off into the crowd and Ben awkwardly met the eyes of Maz, who was observing his outfit choice.

 

“Yes?”

 

“I like your tracksuit. My boyfriend in college had one just like that.”

 

Ben groaned. He stormed off to the bar, the bottle of alcohol cradled in his arm.

 

⟵♡⟶

 

_Unbelievable._

 

_Un-fucking-believable._

 

Ben sat at the bar, his arms stubbornly crossed.

 

He refused to take his eyes off of Rey. She was not going to get away this time.

 

All that hard work to get where he was and he had to babysit as she and Finn performed a synchronized dance to _Come on, Eileen._

 

Because, of course. They probably even practiced.

 

_I mean, how many cliche dance moves did they know?_

 

Rey placed her hands on her hips and started to MC Hammer across the glowing floor while Finn hit a perfect Running Man.

 

His eyes became infatuated with the way she moved. Before he could cover himself, she was staring back. Rey winked and his cheeks reddened.

 

He cleared his throat, flushing in tone. He took a moment to glance away and center himself.

 

Last night, after the restaurant fiasco and the argument they had—sleep did not come dexterously. Instead, Ben had gapped at his ceiling fan as his stomach churned on the probability of this new assignment being the bane of his existence. Somehow, it would manage to go south.

 

She seemed to have that touch.

 

When Ben glanced back at the crowd, he felt his gut twinge in the same illusion.

 

The same guy from before was now dancing against her. It was too close for comfort and her face was enough of an explanation.

 

The crowd became tight as he shoved through.

 

Before Ben could clear the distance, Rey had her elbow against the guy behind her. He stumbled back and seemingly cursed, before wandering away in defeat and embarrassment. Finn wrapped an arm around her neck and they slowly started to get back into the motion of the song. 

 

His eyes convoyed the guy and his group as they crossed the dance floor. They disappeared down a hallway and Ben felt his feet gravitating in that direction.

 

Rey would be fine with Finn.

 

He’ll make it quick.

 

He pushed his hand on the door, entering the men’s lavatory.

 

The music was muffled inside and the stalls were questionable, but his eyes remained locked on the individual washing their hands. The water ran quietly.

 

His posse stood nearby and shared a cigarette. They all eyed Ben in his ridiculous, all-blue tracksuit.

 

Ben stood quietly, his hands in his pockets. He plucked the lint that gathered from laundromat trips and whoever previously owned this ridiculous outfit.

 

The water kept running. In the reflection of the mirror, Ben met the eyes of the culprit.

 

“Can I help you?”

 

He shrugged, slowly approaching them. He was outnumbered.

 

“For the rest of the night, you are going to stay away from her.”

 

“Who?” The man acted stupid, his lips curving into a smirk.

 

Ben stood tall. He kept his eyes on him, yet remained aware of the miniscule movements made in his preverial vision, such as the cigarette being put out.

 

“Oh,” he snapped his fingers. “You mean Molly Ringwald and her faggot friend?”

 

“You’re really going to regret that comment.”

 

The guy’s expression grew in amusement. Ben did not falter in his stare.

 

“Fuck this guy,” a voice from the posse groaned.

 

His attention turned to an arm pulling back. The impending punch barely garnered enough traction before Ben dodged it. He returned a hit in the neck, sending the kid across the bathroom. They slammed in the bathroom stall, their esophagus contracting, wheezing for air.

 

The fray was fast and rather easy—too easy.

 

Drunk kids in the lavatory of an eighties bar was effortless in comparison to recruits at boot-camp or international terrorists. It only required Ben’s hands and a few kicks to have the entire group on their knees and exasperated for air.

 

Ben stood over them without a scratch.

 

“Go near her again and no one will be left to remember your existence.”

 

The guy stammered, unable to lift himself from the ground. Crimson dribbled down his neck.

 

“Say you understand me,” Ben ordered.

 

The guy nodded quickly, pinching his bloody nose. “I understand.”

 

Ben smiled, pleased with the development of the evening. In the reflection of the mirror, he spiffed up his hair before opening the door. The music grew louder and the room filled with the bridge of a _Cyndi Lauper_ radio hit.

 

“Groovy.”

 

As if the disco-ball and the retro decorative lights were not enough, almost every single phone in the vicinity of the nightclub was flashing.

 

On stage, Rey and Finn were sharing a microphone as the belted the lyrics to _Girls Just Wanna Have Fun_. The karaoke machine projected the lyrics on a jumbo screen behind them. They had every single line memorized.

 

He could drag them off. That was probably the wise thing to do.

 

Except Rey was beaming. She was in her element and absolutely enjoying herself. It seemed for the first time, in a long time.

 

Instead, he pulled a stool out from the bar and rested his chin in his hand.

 

“Vodka tonic. Be generous. Please.”

 

⟵♡⟶

 

He placed the car in park.

 

Inside, it was a serenity, even with the quiet hum of Rey’s music mix playing on shuffle.

 

Rey was out like the sun settled into the soil.

 

Her hair was frizzy at the ends and the glitter eyeshadow she wore was starting to smudge. The night of sweaty dancing and competitive arcade games had gotten to her. Nonetheless, she still looked like she walked out of a portal straight from the eighties.

 

“Home.”

 

Gently, Rey stirred awake.

 

With a fist, she rubbed her eyes open. A few batted eyelashes later and her vision started to clear up. She pulled in her surroundings—the brightly lit driveway and the visionary exterior of the building.

 

“Already?” She yawned.

 

“You knocked out. I dropped Finn off at his manor.”

 

 _Oh._ That was nice.

 

Rey watched as he got out of the driver’s seat, exposing his outfit to an entire group of his colleagues. He rounded the front of the vehicle to her side and opened her door.

 

Before she could jump out, he extended his proposal.

 

Rey took a moment to stare at the open palm. His flesh was calloused and had seen a lifetime of harm—yet Rey placed her hand into his, gingerly. 

 

“Thanks,” she mumbled.

 

“Have a good night.”

 

She settled onto the asphalt before drawing her hand back to herself. “You as well.”

 

Standing beside his idling car, he watched her climb the front steps of her home—arguably the most recognizable piece of infrastructure in American history.

 

His relationship with the First Daughter was not off to a good start, not ideally anyway. It didn’t mean there wasn’t room to grow. Maybe they could work out. She could do the things she always wanted to do and he would be there to watch her.

 

There was a lot more to Rey than just the headlines and the controversies.

 

She may have been tied to a legacy, but she was still her own person. She had been involuntary thrown onto a stage and stripped of her chance to grow. There wasn’t room for mistakes which is why there were so many of them. It didn’t make her a brat, or ungrateful, or intolerable.

 

It made her vocal.

 

And somehow, that was a bad thing.

 

In his peripheral, he caught the peering glances of other service agents. They were working the third shift and judging by their expressions, his arrival with The First Daughter was the most interesting part of their night.

 

Equally, they eyed Ben.

 

Maybe it was the ridiculous jumpsuit he had to call six different thrift stores to find. Or rather, how long he had been standing there.

 

Too long.

 

She was home. She was safe.

 

Why was he still standing there?  


	4. Pumped Up Kicks

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi reader! I would like to remind you that this story is about American politics and it is especially prevalent in this chapter. Rey and Finn will be attending a gun control demonstration. 
> 
> However, that being said, the topic in this chapter is only utilized to push the plot forward & give my characterization of Rey a goal: to follow her father's footsteps and wake up. This chapter is essentially the moment a fire is lit under her ass and it gets the story going. 
> 
> I am grateful for all my readers and I appreciate your feedback all the same. I only ask that you be nice in the comment section and have faith in me! The story does not revolve around the topics that are only in this chapter and if you decide to continue reading, you will understand why it aaaaall had to unfold this way. 
> 
> Thank you so much & much love!!

**Chapter Four**

Pumped Up Kicks

⟵♡⟶

 

The chanting swelled with a rising sun.

 

_Enough is enough. Enough is enough. Enough is enough._

 

Rey stirred. It almost stole her from her slumber.

 

_Enough is enough. Enough is enough. Enough is enough._

 

Daybreak was augmenting, the birds were chirping and her alarm clock still snoozed. These walls should be insulated from the outside world.  

 

_Enough is enough. Enough is enough. Enough is enough._

 

Sleep prevailed.

 

Tucked beneath a pillow, she snuggled further and further into a dreamland. She melted into the mattress. It was easier to close your eyes and ignore it.

 

Although, that never  _really_ worked. As always, they would just get louder.  

 

⟵♡⟶

   

> **\- Finn | 9:32 AM -**
> 
> Wake up.
> 
>  
> 
> **\- Finn | 9:55 AM -**
> 
> Seriously. Wake up.
> 
>  
> 
> **MISSED FACETIME CALL FROM FINN | 10:14 AM**
> 
>  
> 
> **MISSED FACETIME CALL FROM FINN | 10:22 AM**
> 
>  
> 
> **\- Finn | 10:40 AM -**
> 
> Rey.
> 
>  
> 
> **\- Finn | 10:45 AM -**
> 
> Wakey wakey.
> 
>  
> 
> **\- Rey | 10:46 AM -**
> 
> I’m up, I’m up.
> 
>  
> 
> **\- Rey | 10:46 AM -**
> 
> What is going on?
> 
>  
> 
> **\- Finn | 10:47 AM -**
> 
> I need a small favor.
> 
>  
> 
> **\- Rey | 10:48 AM -**
> 
> ?
> 
>  
> 
> **\- Finn | 10:49 AM -**
> 
> I’ve been talking to this guy on ForceBond and he’s going to a demonstration today in the city. Can you please come with? I’ll buy you coffee. :P
> 
>  
> 
> **\- Rey | 10:52 AM -**
> 
> You woke me up for this?
> 
>  
> 
> **\- Finn | 10:53 AM -**
> 
> Please. I need to make sure it isn’t a catfish.
> 
>  
> 
> **\- Rey | 10:54 AM -**
> 
> I wish I could.
> 
>  
> 
> **\- Rey | 10:55 AM -**
> 
> It’s Agent Solo’s day off so I’m kinda stuck inside.
> 
>  
> 
> **\- Finn | 10:56 AM -**
> 
> Can’t you get another guard to babysit?
> 
>  
> 
> **\- Rey | 10:57 AM -**
> 
> You do realize how much clearance that requires, right?
> 
>  
> 
> **\- Rey | 10:58 AM -**
> 
> Plus, they would never let me go to a demonstration.
> 
>  
> 
> **\- Finn | 10:59 AM -**
> 
> ):
> 
>  
> 
> **\- Rey | 11:02 AM -**
> 
> Actually… I have an idea.
> 
>  
> 
> **\- Rey | 11:03 AM -**
> 
> Meet me at the foot of the Washington Monument at noon.

 

⟵♡⟶

 

The Washington Monument was visible from Rey’s bedroom window.

 

It was an obelisk on the National Mall, almost due east of the Lincoln Memorial and Reflecting Pool. According to Rey’s seventh grade history teacher, it was made of marble, granite, and bluestone gneiss.

 

It was also the most Instagrammed location in the city.

 

 _It wouldn’t be that difficult to find,_ Rey relayed the plan in her head. _I’ll make it quick._

 

On a daily basis, The White House gave tours to travelers, school groups and Boy Scouts. The behind-the-scenes excursions required intensive background checks and patience— _a lot of patience_. Currently, the waiting list was over a year long.

 

The tours were also Rey’s best chance at slipping through security and the front gate unnoticed.

 

Her hair was cluttered beneath a ballcap, stuffed up to look shorter than usual. If she kept her chin low, her face would never be seen. The most obscure outfit in Rey’s closet was a corny Washington D.C. sweatshirt she had bought from a street vendor. It was oversized and worn, the printed words peeling off the cheap fabric.

 

She conformed effortlessly and looked like any other tourist on the street.

 

Like a school of fish, the crowd swam together through the corridor and out the exit. Rey shoved herself into the midst, walking with the current that poured out onto Pennsylvania Avenue.

 

Her pulse was in her throat, her hands were clammy. She recognized all the security guards and if anyone in the crowd conceded Rey, the day would be shot.

  

In the thick of the crowd, the mantra almost harmonized. You could feel it in your veins, almost correlating to the cadence of their voices. Rey stipulated but before she could turn around, the front gate was closed. She was any other demonstrator in the crowd.

 

⟵♡⟶

The journey through the National Mall should have been brief—had it not been for the populous crowds gathering in the epicenter of the city.

 

Rey kept her chin to her chest, avoiding eye-contact.

 

It was more manageable for Finn to enjoy himself. He wasn’t on broadcast television or photographed on vacations. His family wasn’t nearly as publicized and no one really cared for his personal opinions in the way they did Rey’s. He could post a picture of him smoking pot on Instagram and the world wouldn’t bat an eye.

 

Rey caught a glance of him, sitting beneath the Monument on a park bench. He was kicking his feet nonchalantly and watching the crowd.

 

“Give me your sunglasses,” she muttered.

 

Finn lifted his head to the voice. His mouth gaped open at the sight of her.

 

“No way.”

 

“Yes, way.”

 

“You snuck out?”

 

“Can you just give me your sunglasses before someone notices?”

 

He yanked his tortoise shell opticals off, handing them to Rey.

 

“Don’t lose them. They cost me two grand at Cartier.”

 

In return, she shot a menacing scowl. Rey was fermenting.

 

“I snuck out of the most impenetrable building in the world for you and all you care about is your accessory?”

 

“How impenetrable can it be if you snuck out?”

 

Rey rebounded with the same glance.

 

Beneath the protection of Finn’s sunglasses, she was able to take in her surroundings. The crowd of demonstrators were surprisingly young. They all looked to be their age. Parents pushed toddlers in strollers and school groups held hands. Along the curb, yellow buses convoyed like squadrons to war. Everyone was wearing their colors, their mascot, or merchandise from their University’s bookstore.

 

It was a sea of the younger generation.

 

Her and Finn ambled down the sidewalk. Towards the end of the block, scaffolding had assembled a stage and orators were firing up the crowd.

 

Above the crowd, helicopters circled like predatory birds.

  

Finn pointed. “That’s him.”

 

“Where?” Rey bobbed her head, searching the crowd. “I can’t see shit over these signs.”

 

She pivoted with the help of Finn’s brace on her shoulders. In her field of view, a gigantic screen broadcasted the podium. The crowd was far too congested to reach the barricades.

 

_“Him.”_

 

Rey gawked.

 

The guy was definitely attractive. Just by his appearance, you knew he smelled good. He had a bush of curls on his head, too. The only questionable trait was the dark, formulated circles beneath his eyes.

 

He looked tired.

 

“That’s him on stage?” She questioned the obvious.

 

“That’s definitely him.”

 

“You’re talking to a public speaker at this rally? How?”

 

“One of the Georgetown interns told me about him,” he passed his unlocked phone to Rey to scroll through. “I literally downloaded this app and swiped until I found him.”

 

“You can do that?” Rey repeated dumbfoundedly. She swiped left and right on the application, passing through the profiles of other gay men in the vicinity.

 

“Unfortunately, I couldn’t find Agent Solo.”

 

Rey wretched and rolled her eyes beneath the sunglasses.  

 

“What?” Finn shrugged. _“He is cute.”_

 

“He’s way too stern. I cannot imagine him being remotely romantic.”

 

“You drive him crazy,” he pushed against Rey to allow space for other protestors passing through. “If you were easier to get along with, I bet he’d be more cordial.”

 

Rey snorted. Her formulated reply was silenced at the sound of the microphone screeching through the streets.

 

Everyone fell quiet.

 

> _Eight minutes and twenty-four seconds._

 

Poe Dameron stood at the podium. If he was nervous, he didn’t make it evident.

 

Rey took a moment to scan the crowd.

 

Some people wept. Adults seemed solemn.

  

Poe nodded his head as a roar grew through the crowd. He stood tall on the rostrum, broadcasted in front of thousands of people and millions more that watched from their couch.

 

Whether it was the ground beneath her or her own knees, Rey felt herself sink into the pavement. _How long had this been going on? Why were so many people here?_ They all bore expressions of anger and grief.

 

The bubble surrounding Rey’s lifestyle burst to crumbs. The wind took them.

 

> _We will be the kids you read about in the textbooks._
> 
>  
> 
> _If a politician wants to come up to my face and tell me how it was a terrible tragedy and how it should never have happened while maintaining to tell us how nothing is going to be done about it, I’m going to happily ask them_ — _How much money did you receive from them?_
> 
>  
> 
> _Fuck that._

 

Poe’s bottom lip was trembling now. The air felt vacuumed out of the atmosphere. Rey felt as if a python wrapped around her neck and squeezed.

   

> _Keep your thoughts and prayers._
> 
>  
> 
> _To every politician who is taking donations from them, shame on you._
> 
>  

Next to Rey, a group of school kids held their arms in their air. Wrapped around their wrist, was an orange price tag with the same expenditure written on it.

  

> _To President Kenobi, who took a ten million dollar donation from the NRA, shame on you. There is blood on your hands. Divide that total by the number of gunshot victims in the United States this year alone, and we are absolutely worthless to you._

 

Simultaneously, Rey and Finn glanced at one another.

 

“I think you need to get out of here,” Finn shouted but his words were lost.

 

The crowd was riled up. With each sentence Poe uttered into the microphone, they were provoked to scream their lungs blue.

 

Rey nodded hastily.

 

“Keep my sunglasses. You need them.”

 

> _The people in the government who were voted into power are lying to us. Politicians who sit in their gilded House and Senate seats are gambling with our lives._

 

Finn squeezed Rey’s palm one last time before she jettisoned off. The hymn grew in callous and passion. She kept her head down, shoving through—first graders, second graders, third graders, and four.

  

The crowd was packed like sardines in a can. She felt suffocated. Her eyesight blurred on the edge as they enmeshed closer and closer.

 

The bodies of a kindergarten class surrounded her.

  

> _That us kids don’t know what we’re talking about, that we’re too young to understand how the government works._
> 
>  
> 
> _We call bullshit._

 

On the podium, Poe absorbed the energy from the crowd. The end was unfathomable. All he saw were poster boards, banners, and signs. All he could hear was the rumble of the orchestra.

 

He joined in with the chant, lifting his arms to incite the congregation.

 

Every eye had to have been on her. She must have stood out. A spotlight from the helicopters would be on her any moment now. She was in a frenzy.

 

Her pathway crossed the stream of marchers perpendicularly, creating a chaos.

 

 _They know,_ Rey pushed her palms through the shoulders of teachers, _they all know I'm me and I'm here._

 

Beneath her forearm, a grip yanked her from the hurricane. She unloaded into a vacant alleyway.

 

“Are you serious?” Agent Solo snapped. “What _the fuck_ were you thinking?”

 

Rey placed her hands on her knees, frantic for air. Her heart was thumping in her chest.

 

“How did—” She sounded asthmatic, “—find me?”

 

He raked his fingers through his hair. He looked equally distraught and out of breath, as if he had sprinted.

 

“Everything would have been over if you were seen here,” he paced in the alleyway and suddenly kicked the wall of a dumpster. It rattled. “The campaign—everything.”

 

 _“Fuck the campaign,”_ Rey spat. “Do you hear them?”

 

“Are you trying to get me fired?”

 

Rey leaned against the brick building. He was genuine. The tone of his voice, the demeanor of his shoulders and the glaze over his eyes were all conveying a soft-spoken sobriety.

 

“How did you find me?” Rey repeated.

 

He lifted up his phone screen. The maps showed a beacon of her location. It pulsated.

 

Betrayal coarsed her veins. She was tagged with a tracker.

 

“How?” She muttered. Her rebuttal was reticent.

 

“It’s in your phone.”

 

“So, let me get this straight.” She pushed off the wall and meandered towards him. “On your only day off this week, you decided to open up your phone and track me?”

 

“I’m glad I did,” his eyes scored her over. “You were having a panic attack before I fished you out. Is the real world too scary for you? Have you finally woken up?”

 

Rey’s posture collapsed. She could feel herself fall to disarray. Of course she was aware of the current events. She just did not know the extent.

 

When your whole life is suffocated from politics, it was much easier to dissociate completely or to pull yourself from the narrative. If she never gave a voice, she didn’t need to be in the conversation.

 

Inside The White House, the world seemed like a paradise. The perfect bubble was blistering. 

 

“I had no idea this was happening,” she mumbled. She stared at her feet.

 

Agent Solo kept his distance.

 

When he accepted his position in The White House, Rey was only a child. She enjoyed the simple things and mostly kept to herself. As she grew older, the world got colder outside but within the orbit of her legacy—she was kept warm.

 

“Hey,” he whispered. “It’s okay.”

 

Rey felt ridiculous. Her ball-cap was ridiculous. The sunglasses that cost a mortgage were ridiculous. Her oversized I LOVE DC sweatshirt was ridiculous. Her blindsided belief that the world was the bee’s knees was absolutely—horrifyingly—ridiculous.

 

“They said they funded my dad’s campaign—that they donated to him.”

 

Agent Solo took a step forward. Outside the safety of the alleyway, the march had begun. Their chants echoed in the background of their conversation.

 

“It is not radical to receive a donation from someone who wants you to vote a certain way,” he towered over her, his head dipped to meet her eyes. “It doesn’t mean it reflects your father’s views.”

 

“No,” she sputtered. “But it does make him weak.”

 

It wasn’t entirely silent with the melody of Rey’s new favorite song coming from the streets. It wasn’t entirely uncomfortable or terrible. There was still time. It was only June and the election wasn’t until November.

 

There was still time.

 

“So what are you going to do about it, Rey?”

 

It wasn’t really a question—more like encouragement.

 

⟵♡⟶

 

The doors to the Oval Office opened and the President glanced up. Rey entered, her chin high, with Agent Solo steadily behind her. He stopped at the door, while she continued forward.

 

“Rey,” he dropped his paperwork on the desk. “Take a seat.”

 

In the focal point of world politics, she disregarded her father’s advice. Instead, she crossed her arms over her chest and stood before the Resolute desk and the President of the United States.

 

“Dad,” she pointed at the window and, theoretically, the demonstration that still rallied outside the fence. “Why is this happening?”

 

“America has had their twentieth school shooting this year.”

 

Rey felt depleted. _So, he was aware._

 

“And, why aren’t you doing anything?”

 

“I don’t have much room to move, Rey.”

 

“Much room?” She repeated. Her voice grew harsh. The tone could slit his throat. 

 

Rey and her father used to be close.

 

There was a time, in Vermont, when he would take her ice fishing on the lake and they would stop at a diner in town for hot cocoa. There was a time, before the world watched their every move, that they could be daughter and father.

 

Instead, they were Rey and the President.

 

He no longer belonged to her.

 

“The benevolent donations made my campaign possible. This one endorsement was a sacrifice. It is why the rest of our progress possible. This is how American politics have always worked. I didn't create this."

 

“This one endorsement is staining your hands,” Rey echoed the speech. “You cannot sit by and allow this to happen.”

 

“Five months out of election night is not the time to be demonizing the largest lobbyist.”

 

“And what about the people outside?” Rey stammered. “That is an entire upcoming generation of voters."

 

He swiveled on his chair and stared out the window. From his view of the lawn, he could only see flora. Visibly, he could see no protestors or their messages written on poster boards.

 

“All these years,” he muttered. “Your mother and I waited for you to get involved and you decide to do it now.”

 

Rey did not falter. “If not now, then when.”

 

Although Rey could not see it, he smiled. She sounded like her mother.

 

“What is your plan?”

 

“We do a campaign tour at college campuses and we speak directly to the kids."

 

Agent Solo stood by the door. He watched a side of Rey he never knew existed. Somewhere inside her, a flame kindled. She was ready to set fire to the whole system. In a way, she was perfect for the deed. She was an outsider. She didn’t give a fuck about anyone’s personal feelings or their bank statements.

 

_She was the next generation, too._

 

The President stood from his chair before turning to face his daughter. His eyes flickered over her face as he desperately tried to her thoughts and wonder where their relationship had gone wrong.

 

He nodded, “Give ‘em hell, kid.” Yet, his heart sunk as his daughter stormed out of the office. 

 

⟵♡⟶

 

They walked down the wing together, passing by interns and politicians that catered to their day. Rey had the widest grin on her face. Her step contained a little bounce, a little more confidence.

 

Agent Solo side-eyed her. “Pleased with yourself?”

 

“I’d say this is shaping up to be a great day.”

 

“Besides the part when you almost fell unconscious at the protest.”

 

“We can forget that little detail.”

 

He nodded. “Let’s keep that between us. Our secret.”

 

Rey’s cheeks flourished in color. She kept her eyes ahead. Concurrently, she grew cognizant of how close he was standing by her.

 

“Deal. Our secret.”

 

“Here,” Agent Solo held out a piece of paper. “The next time you want to galavant around the city, just call me. I’d rather you be safe.”

 

Rey watched him turn on his heel and disappear into the crowd before unfolding the note. In a surprisingly well-written manner, he had jotted down his phone number.

 

⟵♡⟶

 

Beneath her covers, she had assembled a fort. Furiously, Rey typed on her laptop as she researched organizations and college campuses. She finally had something to do with her time and she was going to spend it well. 

 

She would need Poe’s contact information, definitely. Finn would be best at that. 

  

In the quietest hour of The White House, she typed into her browser’s search engine: _universities with good political science programs_.

 

Her eyes were in pain from the pixelated screen, yet she couldn’t tear herself away. She knew this was what she wanted to do. She wanted to get involved.

  

> **\- Rey | 2:05 AM -**
> 
> What college did you to go to?
> 
>  
> 
> **\- Agent Solo | 2:07 AM -**
> 
> It is two in the morning. Is this an emergency?
> 
>  
> 
> **\- Rey | 2:08 AM -**
> 
> Your LinkedIn profile is private.
> 
>  
> 
> **\- Agent Solo | 2:09 AM -**
> 
> I didn’t go to school. I went into the Marines.
> 
>  
> 
> **\- Rey | 2:10 AM -**
> 
> And that worked out? You didn’t miss out on any opportunities because of that?
> 
>  
> 
> **\- Agent Solo | 2:11 AM -**
> 
> Goodnight Rey.
> 
>  
> 
> **\- Rey | 2:12 AM -**
> 
> Did you want to go to school???
> 
>  
> 
> **\- Agent Solo | 2:14 AM -**
> 
> School wasn’t an option for me. I made the best of what I had.
> 
>  
> 
> **\- Rey | 2:15 AM -**
> 
> Oh okay. Did you like the military?
> 
>  
> 
> **\- Agent Solo | 2:16 AM -**
> 
> Please go to bed.
> 
>  
> 
> **\- Rey | 2:20 AM -**
> 
> Okay, goodnight.
> 
>  
> 
> **\- Rey | 2:45 AM -**
> 
> Do you know what a ‘Common Application’ is?
> 
>  
> 
> **\- Agent Solo | 2:46 AM -**
> 
> Rey.
> 
>  
> 
> **\- Rey | 2:47 AM -**
> 
> Okay. Okay. Sorry. Goodnight.
> 
>  
> 
> **\- Agent Solo | 2:49 AM -**
> 
> Goodnight.
> 
>  
> 
> **\- Agent Solo | 3:19 AM -**
> 
> And yes. I will help you tomorrow.


	5. Ben

**Chapter Five**

Ben

⟵♡⟶

 

From his bedside table, Alexa played _Every Breath You Take_ by _The Police_.

 

Water ran from the shower-head, cleansing Ben of his sleepless night. The dribble of lost cognizance and the yearn of something unspoken kept him tossing and stirring in the early hours. Steam hurtled, spilling over the top and into the conclave of his stone bathroom.

 

The eighties mix had been a recommendation from someone—not that Ben actually cared to listen to the type of power ballads _said someone_ enjoyed.

 

It was just good music, he admitted.

 

Ben had already raked lathery fingers through his hair and he had already squeezed a loofah against his skin. Yet, he couldn’t find the strength to turn the knob and start the day. He just stood beneath the stream and stared at the tile.  

 

The dark curtain of his bangs stuck to his forehead as water ran down the angular structure of his nose. He could taste the remnants of the soap.

 

Whenever he blinked, his vision grew starry and bled the pixels of their text message thread. For the duration of the night, he had scrolled through the blue bubbles of a personal conversation.Those messages had kept him awake. Communications between an agent and their client were not traditionally intimate.

 

He had scribbled his phone number and shoved the folded note into her clasped fingers with discretion. It was only to ensure she wouldn’t run off on her own again. That’s it.

 

It was definitely not to talk about the _fucking_ Common Application or for her to pry at his personal life. The First Daughter had no business gaining insight as to why Ben Solo couldn’t afford college or had to be shipped off overseas.

 

His priority was keeping her safe. Her father would have his head if anything else.

 

Dozing off was impractical by the time Alexa played his first of many alarms at four in the morning. The sun was poking from her hiding spot and the city was already starting to bustle. A week short of July Fourth and Washington D.C. was already fucking mayhem.

 

Ben turned the knob and the drain released a gurgling noise.

 

The glass of his shower door fogged up at the release of the hinges as the outside air covered his skin in goosebumps.

 

He quickly grabbed a towel and wrapped it around his pelvis.

 

Since he accepted a position at the White House, Ben could afford to live comfortably. He lived in a one bedroom apartment in the Gables building only a short walk from Dupont’s traffic circle.

 

The neighborhood was located northwest of the city and an absolute paradise when the leaves started to change to crimson and mustard. Ben’s block was comprised of bricked buildings, row houses, small businesses, and coffeehouses. It flourished quietly.

 

He meandered into his bedroom, leaving a trail of water droplets behind his stride. In the mess of his duvet covers, he freed his phone and unlocked the screen. Still no reply.

 

She was definitely awake by now. Her calendar had mentioned breakfast with her parents and the Ambassador of Poland to the United States. Some of Ben’s colleagues were called to work earlier than him.

 

He shouldn’t text her. It isn’t a good idea.

 

> **\- Agent Solo | 7:13 AM -**
> 
> Would you like anything from Starbucks?

 

She probably doesn’t even have her phone on her.

 

She was busy with the President, discussing Polish currency and tourism.

 

Why would she need a coffee? She was probably at a continental breakfast being served mango juice directly plucked and squeezed from a tree in India.

 

Ben walked into his closet, eying the rack of similar and coordinated black suits. Not that it mattered which one he decided on, he pulled his favorite from a hangar and stood before a full-body mirror as he dressed himself.

 

His finger thumbed with his buttons as he hummed along to the song currently playing.

 

_Ba-ding._

 

His eyes shot across the room and to his phone. It wasn’t a part of the song and he wasn’t going crazy. His phone screen had illuminated for a quick second.

 

His dress socks made the slide across the room frank and easy.

 

> **\- Rey | 7:32 AM -**
> 
> I’m good. I’m eating breakfast at the Four Seasons.

 

Ben rendered her response in his mind.

 

It was a mistake to message her.

 

She must’ve known that. It was why she ignored his early morning message and why she settled with reminding him that she was currently sitting at a table with the President of the United States—her father and his boss.

 

> **\- Rey | 7:33 AM -**
> 
> Wait, actually lol.
> 
>  
> 
> **\- Rey | 7:33 AM -**
> 
> Could you get me a venti matcha lemonade?
> 
>  
> 
> **\- Agent Solo | 7:34 AM -**
> 
> Is it not on the menu at your fancy restaurant?

 

He used one hand to respond while the other yanked his pants up his legs.

 

There was a Starbucks on the corner of his street. It wasn’t too far and if he left now, he would have enough time to pick her up when he was scheduled to.  

 

“Alexa, stop.” He ordered.

 

The standing speaker illuminated a blue ring before silencing in the middle of the eighties mix.

  

> **\- Rey | 7:35 AM -**
> 
> This breakfast is boring.
> 
>  
> 
> **\- Rey | 7:36 AM -**
> 
> And no.
> 
>  
> 
> **\- Rey | 7:37 AM -**
> 
> Plus, you did offer. :P

 

⟵ ♡ ⟶

 

 _“Next!”_ The barista called from behind the counter.

 

Ben stared at his phone and that damn emoji with the tongue sticking out. He breathed heavily, catching his breath. He had jogged down the block to fetch the drinks while the parking valet brought his car up from the underground lot.

 

He rolled his eyes, approaching the register.

 

“Can I get a small iced americano with four shots?”

 

“Okay, a tall iced americano with four shots.”

 

“No, a small.”

 

“Yes, a tall.”

 

“A small.”

 

“Our small is the tall, sir.”

 

“Oh,” he nodded before squinting at his phone. “And uhhhh, a match-uh lemonade?”

 

“A matcha lemonade,” the barista corrected him. “What size?”

 

He glanced back at his phone, sliding through the texts. Rey wouldn’t shut up about Poland. She kept sending messages about Poland.

 

“Ventuh?”

 

“Venti.”

 

“Sure, whatever.”

 

_Ba-ding. Ba-ding. Ba-ding._

 

The text messages came through like a marching band down the street. He rolled his eyes, furiously typing while handing over his credit card.

 

> **\- Agent Solo | 7:52 AM -**
> 
> I really do not care about Poland.
> 
>  
> 
> **\- Rey | 7:53 AM -**
> 
> There is just so much to know. It is exhausting.

 

Ben filtered that message in his mind. It seemed to mean more than just some European country across the pond. Rey was suddenly paying attention to the job of a national leader.

 

The barista was holding out his credit card for a while, her impatience being tested.

 

“Can I get your name for the order?”

 

⟵ ♡ ⟶

  
 

> **\- Agent Solo | 8:02 AM -**
> 
> This drink just looks disgusting.
> 
>  
> 
> **\- Agent Solo | 8:02 AM -**
> 
> Also, I’m on the way to pick you up from the restaurant.
> 
>  
> 
> **\- Rey | 8:03 AM -**
> 
> Did you know that Poland exports Fiat cars?
> 
>  
> 
> **\- Agent Solo | Read at 8:03 AM -**
> 
>  
> 
> **\- Rey | 8:06 AM -**
> 
> Those really small cars.
> 
>  
> 
> **\- Agent Solo | Read at 8:06 AM -**
> 
>  
> 
> **\- Rey | 8:11 AM -**
> 
> Apparently Americans like to buy their cars from overseas.
> 
>  
> 
> **\- Agent Solo | Read at 8:11 AM -**
> 
>  
> 
> **\- Rey | 8:15 AM -**
> 
> You’re boring.
> 
>  
> 
> **\- Agent Solo | 8:16 AM -**
> 
> I’m driving.
> 
>  
> 
> **\- Rey | 8:17 AM -**
> 
> A Fiat?

 

Ben groaned.

 

She was toying with him.

 

Rey already knew that every agent drove an assigned _Chevrolet Tahoe_ with blacked out paint and bulletproof windows. They were all proudly American built. Her own father signed and sealed the budget for their production.

 

> **\- Agent Solo | 8:42 AM -**
> 
> I’m here.

 

⟵ ♡ ⟶

 

The back door opened and Rey hiked herself into the backseat. _“Dzie_ _ń_ _dobry.”_

 

He stared at the road ahead, taking a deep breath. “Hi.”

 

“That’s how you say good morning in Polish,” she clicked her seatbelt. “Didya know that?”

 

“Now I do.”

 

Across the partition, Rey accepted her drink that he extended out. She shook the contents, stirring up the matcha that was starting to settle on the bottom while she rotated the straw through the ice.

 

Her eyes glazed over the order label and the italicized name.

 

Rey felt her heart flutter in her ribs like a caged insect. She read the alias over and over and over again. A wave of nervousness coaxed her to ignore the invasion of privacy, but a small flicker in Rey wanted to dive right into that intuitive audacious flare of her’s.

 

“Thank you,” she sneered. _“Ben.”_

 

He turned the flicker down, pulling onto the road. “You’re wel—” his voice dropped and he glanced in the rearview mirror.

 

Rey held up the drink. “Mmm, it’s great, _Ben._ ”

 

 _I could floor it._ He thought. _I could end it all._

 

“What did you just say?”

 

She sipped the straw, filling the vehicle with an obnoxious slurping noise. “I said it’s great.”

 

“No, after that.”

 

“I don’t know what you’re talking about, Ben.”

 

“Ben. You said Ben.”

 

“Who’s _Ben_ , Agent Solo?”

 

His grip tightened on the steering wheel. His stops became _too_ short and his accelerations became _too_ impatient.

 

“Be careful, _Ben_. You don’t want me to spill this drink, _Ben_ . All over your car, _Ben_.”

 

“Get it all out of your system.”

 

“Sure thing, _Ben_. It’s a long ride during morning rush hour, _Ben_.”

 

Ben turned the dial on the control panel, the radio increasing in volume. He motioned his finger near his earpiece, “I can’t hear you. Sorry.”

 

“ _Ben?_ ” Rey exclaimed. She lifted her voice simultaneously, “Can I have the AUX cord, _Ben_?”

 

He shook his head and pressed a mechanism. The partition between them started to raise.

 

“Sorry, I can’t hear you.”

 

“ _Ben?_  Wait, _Ben_ . I’m sorry, _Ben._ ”

 

The partition came to a close and he locked it.

 

A smug look painted across Ben’s face. In the backseat, Rey leaned against her own seat and stared at the label with the same complacent expression on her own.

 

⟵ ♡ ⟶

 

His eyes wandered from the artwork, polaroid photos, and boy-band posters that decorated the walls. Ben stiffly stood in the middle of Rey’s bedroom, suddenly attentive and aware of how unfitting it was to be there. He held his iced americano in one hand, the droplets of liquid running down his palm and staining the cusp of his dress shirt.

 

“You can sit down,” Rey peered over her open laptop, mid-sip of her matcha lemonade.

 

“I’m good right here.”

 

She shrugged. “I’ll sit on my bed and you can take my desk chair.”

 

Ben eyed her closed door before taking her up on the offer. Outside he could hear the lunch bustle of the White House faculty. Thanks to his father, his legs were far too long for the height of the chair and awkwardly, they curled beneath himself at the ankle.

 

“Have you decided on a school?”

 

“I wanted to try Georgetown, University of Pennsylvania and Columbia.”

 

“And a major?”

 

“Political science.”

 

Ben raised an eyebrow.

 

Even so, Rey continued to type while blatantly ignoring the lingering questions of that decision.

 

He sighed, placing his americano on her desk.

 

“You need to make an account on the common application.”

 

“I already did that.”

 

“Okay, and you added schools to your list?”

 

“Those three,” she nodded. “Yes.”

 

“Which one is your top choice?”

 

“University of Pennsylvania. My mom went there.”

 

Ben nodded. He pushed the chair across her bedroom floor so that he could see her laptop screen as well.

 

She pointed at the next loaded page and he leaned forward, closing the space between them.

 

“I get stuck here,” she said. “With the requirements and application fees.”

 

He squinted, glancing over the small font of the application. “Let me see.”

 

Reluctantly, she handed the laptop over to him. “Don’t put a tracker on it, _please_.”

 

“Hilarious.”

 

He started to type on the keyboard, scrolling through the application she had spent the entire night filling out.

 

“Have you taken your SATs?”

 

Rey flopped back on her bed, releasing a sound that blurred the lines between a growl and a groan. “Yeah.”

 

“Were the scores decent?” He glanced over, his eyes lingering. From the fall, her shirt lifted a bit and he was able to see the flesh of her abdomen. He cleared his throat, turning back to the screen. “Do you know your scores?”

 

“The _PDF_ is on my desktop.”

 

He moved the tab, exposing the file on her. Clicking on it, he dragged it onto the Common Application and dropped it into the designated location.

 

“Letters of recommendation?”

 

“I don’t have any of those.”

 

“Well,” he scrolled mindlessly. “You need at least three. Can you think of _anyone—_ _absolutely anyone_ —prestigious and acclaimed in your life that could write one?”

 

Rey griped. She really wanted to do this on her own.

 

“Can you write one?”

 

Ben chuckled. “I was thinking more like a Senator or the Duchess of Cambridge.”

 

“My parents have been annoying me about college for years now. They’d freak and invite half of Washington over for dinner if they knew I was applying. I’d rather just do this myself.”

 

“Your parents are going to get you into college.”

 

Immediately, Rey poisoned him with a smug expression. “ _I’m_ going to get _myself_ into college.”

 

“You have no experience, you participated in no clubs or sports in high school, your standardized test scores are mediacore and you have zero letters of recommendation.”

 

“Again, you could write one.”

 

“You wouldn’t want that,” he clicked the save option in the top corner. “I’ll only write about how incredibly exceptional you are at being a pain in the ass.”

 

Warmly, Rey smiled. “That’s something.”

 

Ben closed the laptop over his bent knee before turning his head to better meet hers.

 

The vacancy between them was virtually nonexistent and equally, they became conscious of how close they had grown during the banter. Rey’s legs were gingerly touching against his.

 

His eyes flickered between her own and the purse of her lips.

 

“You need to get these letters of recommendation and then I can help you with this,” he whispered. The tone of his voice was quieter in comparison to the competitive match they were just conquering. The proximity of her kicked him in the gut, taking his wind.

 

Rey nodded slowly.

 

“I have to go.”

 

Rey nodded again.

 

“I have lunch with my colleagues,” he pointed towards the door, rising from the seat.

 

“Ben.”

 

He straightened the front of his buttoned suit, fixing his hair in her body-length mirror. “What?”

 

_He responded to that name._

 

“Your americano.”

 

“Right.”

 

Before she could say anything else, he grabbed it from the desk and shuffled from the room without raising any eyes from the passing faculty.

 

The room was full of oxygen again and the blue-tint of his feelings was subsiding.

 

Rey toppled onto her mattress. She kept her eyes fixated on the ceiling. The room had been repainted so many times, you could differentiate between the fresher shades and the grime that had collected. Alabaster on alabaster, covering up the blemishes of previous occupants.

 

Maybe the room needed a repaint soon.

 

She huffed, rubbing her eye sockets until she saw starry vision.

 

Vibrations resonated in the depth of her duvet cover.

 

She stretched spread eagle, raking her hands until her fingers landed on the displaced cell phone. Squinting at the harsh display screen, her eyes scanned the incoming text message.

  

> **\- Finn | 12:32 PM -**
> 
> Poe said he will meet with you.
> 
>  
> 
> **\- Finn | 12:33 PM -**
> 
> He mentioned some place called Burger Tap on Pennsylvania Avenue. Are you familiar?
> 
>  
> 
> **\- Rey | 12:34 PM -**
> 
> I know it.
> 
>  
> 
> **\- Finn | 12:35 PM -**
> 
> Cool. We’ll meet you at seven.

 

⟵ ♡ ⟶

 

“Are you nervous?” Ben glanced into the rear-view mirror. He had been eying Rey for almost the entire duration of the car ride. She was doing breathing exercises and mentally counting the seconds of her breathing.

 

She exhaled harshly. “No, of course not. Why would I be nervous? Do I seem nervous?”

 

“You’ll do great.”

 

“Easier said than done.”

 

“Don’t concentrate so hard. Just act naturally. You come from an entire legacy of politicians.”

 

“Looked me up on Wikipedia, huh?”

 

Rey glanced out the window.

 

A group of tourists were convoying an aerial flag waving around by their guide. Beside them, a vendor was selling roasted coconut and homemade buttons with political stances. Some taxis were idled on the curb to prepare for the evening’s drinking crowd.

 

“Maybe.” He finally admitted. “Don’t act like you didn’t.”

 

“I had a reason to. I wanted to know more about my top cadet. What was your excuse?”

 

Ben remained silent. He turned up his flicker, pulling up to the curb. He eyed the questionable block and the occupants that lingered outside the burger joint.

 

“Plus, it wasn’t like you found anything interesting.”

 

He smiled to himself clandestinely. “I did, actually.”

 

Rey peered over the partition with curiosity.

 

“Your eighth grade yearbook photos.”

 

She promptly groaned before opening her door and departing onto the street. Ben couldn’t help but feel his hidden smile further flourish into a grin.

 

It had been quite amusing to find a brace-face, braided hair Rey.

 

⟵ ♡ ⟶

 

Burger Tap and Shake Foggy Bottom was an American bar known for their onion rings and milkshakes. Rey became infatuated with the place her sophomore year of high school. Her parents, much to Rey’s surprise, had approved for her to go on a date when she turned sixteen. That was, of course, strictly only allowed if the caravan of secret service agents were allowed to tag along.

 

So, all of them squeezed into a booth and shared finger food and ice cream desserts while her possible future boyfriend came out all in the same nightfall. The evening was unquestionably mortifying but at least the butterfinger milkshake she ordered was to die for.

 

_“Rey!”_

 

She pivoted on her heels, following the familiar voice of her _once in-the-closet boyfriend turned gay best friend_. Finn was hailing her down from across the restaurant. He and Poe had already grabbed a table.

 

Ben mumbled over her shoulder. “I’ll be by the door.”

 

Rey acknowledged him with a small nod before snaking through the restaurant to their table. She fell into the booth and smiled coyly between the two of them.

 

“Thank you so much for agreeing to meet me.”

 

The fiery essence he exuded on stage was not as eminent now. The man seemed clocked out and exhausted, the flesh beneath his eyes almost a shade of purple.

 

“Thank you for reaching out. It’s not often that you get to have food with the President’s daughter.”

 

“You can call me Rey,” she forced a friendly smile. “Please.”

 

“Well, Rey,” he extended his hand across the table. “I’m Poe Dameron.”

 

She accepted with a shake before pulling her arm back beneath the table. Out of nervousness, she plucked at her ripped jeans.

 

“Your speech was inspiring.”

 

“Oh?” He raised an eyebrow into Finn’s direction. “You were able to make it? I didn’t see anything on the news.”

 

“I was hiding in the crowd.”

 

Poe nodded languidly. “Had I known you were there, I would have invited you onstage.”

 

“I wouldn’t have been able to contribute anything constructive.”

 

“Nonsense,” he gestured through the air with his hand. “Your father makes executive orders. Your mere appearance at the demonstration would have rallied a lot of support for our cause.”

 

“That’s actually why I requested to meet with you,” her voice trailed off.

 

Poe raised an eyebrow into the curl of his bangs.

 

“Can I get you guys anything to drink?”

 

The table concurrently shifted their heads to the presence of the waitress. She held out a notepad, not regarding them much. Her apron was covered in stains and splotches from running food.

 

“I’ll have a root-beer float,” Finn announced.

 

“Same,” Poe mumbled.

 

The waitress nodded as she jotted the order down. She lifted her head, “And for you?”

 

At the sight of Rey Kenobi, she felt her bottom lip quiver momentarily. She tried to conceal her apparent recognition but that ship had already sailed.

 

“Butterfinger milkshake, please.”

 

“Of—Of course, I’ll go grab your drinks. Thank you.”

 

The waitress turned on her heel and dashed to the kitchen.

 

Silence blanketed the table briefly.

 

Poe spoke first. “Is everything okay?”

 

Beside him, Finn shrugged. He kept his voice low. “It happens whenever we go out.”

 

Rey folded her arms over her chest. She gave a small scan of the restaurant. Everyone was glancing in her direction but immediately tore their eyes away when she met them. Finally, her gaze landed on Ben.

 

He stood at the door, his shoulders stiff. He wasn’t wearing sunglasses like he normally did, but his earpiece was in. Rey was almost positive he was listening to the clamor of ten more undercover agents that walked the block.

 

 _“Anyways,”_ her voice trailed. She fixated on Poe. “I came to offer you a position.”

 

“A position?” He straightened up.

 

“We’re adding a student-run tour to the campaign. I want to visit college campuses and hear from the younger voters themselves.”

 

“You’re serious?”

 

Rey nodded.

 

“Why haven’t I heard anything about it?”

 

“The idea sprung from witnessing the demonstration yesterday.”

 

“It’s a good idea.”

 

Finn smiled approvingly in Rey’s direction. “See? I told you he would like it.”

 

“But,” Poe interjected.

 

“But?” Rey and Finn repeated simultaneously.

 

“This won’t be easy. Most political stances from the younger generation are incredibly polarizing. Are you sure your father is willing to risk that controversy months before the election?”

 

Rey felt a paroxysm in her tummy. It boiled up and wanted to spill over onto the tiled flooring of the retro burger joint. Although her father had given his blessing, she knew he was still a politician at heart. Nothing about the next few weeks were going to be easy.

 

“He already assigned a personal aide to help us organize it.”

 

“Is he going to contribute at all? Will he campaign on our stances?”

 

“I’m working on it.”

 

Poe fell against his booth. He pinched the bridge of his nose and shook his head.

 

“It just sounds like you need to pull more votes against Snoke. Who better to become the face of a college campus tour than his own daughter?”

 

“This,” Rey stammered, _“was my idea.”_

 

“And it’s an admirable idea,” Poe admitted. His voice sounded optimistic but his head was still shaking. “But it won’t mean anything if the politicians in charge don’t listen to us.”

 

Finn stared at the table. He bit his lip. He was witnessing the deadlock of two headstrong individuals. Poe was a realistic leader while Rey was a buoyant fighter.

 

_“Here are your drinks!”_

 

The waitress returned to the table with an attitude that demarcated from her previous. She was grinning and her voice was lifting. She placed the drinks in front of everyone. Rey and Poe kept their eyes locked on one another instead.

 

Finn forced a toothless smile. “Thank you.”

 

“Um,” the waitress shifted her weight between her feet. “Rey, is it?”

 

Tearing her glance from Poe, she smiled up at the waitress.

“My roommate is a political science major and she’s never going to believe me.”

 

Rey’s eyes followed the waitress’s movement to her hands. Before she could retrieve her cell phone from the front pocket of her apron, Agent Solo was looming over the table. He had one hand on his belt.

 

“What’s going on?” He demanded. His voice was huskier than the car ride over.

 

“It’s fine,” Rey waved him off like a stray cat. “Of course I’ll take a photo.”

 

The waitress smiled sheepishly before turning to Agent Solo. She held out the phone.

 

“Could you, please?”

 

Annoyance sketched his expression as she held his palm out, taking her device. He slid up on the homescreen and focused the camera as Rey stood beside the waitress.

 

“Don’t mind him,” Rey whispered. “It’s past his bedtime.”

 

Finn covered his mouth, concealing his laugh before the two girls smiled widely towards Agent Solo. He snapped a single shot.

 

He could not be more disinterested.

 

“There,” he mumbled.

 

“Thank you!” The waitress exclaimed. She quickly scurried to the kitchen at the sound of her manager calling out for her.

 

Rey plopped back down onto the booth. She rolled her eyes at Agent Solo’s wagging finger.

 

“No more photos.”

 

“Now I’m going to stop for every single person that asks.”

 

“I’m serious.”

 

“I’m serious.”

 

_“I’m serious.”_

 

“Look at me, I’m as serious as it gets.”

 

Finn and Poe’s eyes bounced between the two of them such as watching a tennis match.

 

“It’s election season. I’m not going to say no.”

 

“Drink your milkshake. I have a Game of Thrones marathon tonight.”

 

Agent Solo flipped on his heel, stalking back to the door.

 

He sulked in silence, his arms over his chest.

 

“Anyways,” Poe dawdled.

 

“It is no secret that I was disinterested in politics.” Rey huffed, mixing her straw around the milkshake that was still too thick to drink. “I had to be dragged to senate dinners, let alone Prince William’s wedding. I really need a strong team and I think you’d be fit to run the whole operation.”

 

“Run the whole operation?” Poe repeated.

 

Rey deliberately nodded slowly.

 

“You’ll work with a White House aide and some other student interns but it’s all yours.”

 

“You’re not going to be doing that?”

 

“I’m still learning. I’d rather someone who knows their shit do it.”

 

“Why me?” Poe inquires.

 

“You started a campaign with over a thousand satellite organizations. You hosted the largest demonstration in Washington since the Women’s March. I think you’re capable of a few college campus tour stops.”

 

“And you can speak from personal experience.” Finn added.

 

“Don’t worry about logistics. The White House team will take care of that.”

 

Poe sipped from his root-beer float, churning over the idea.

 

“Can I put it on my resume?” He asked.

 

Rey blinked. “You will literally lock down any opportunity in the world after working with the President.”

 

Poe held his drink high. “Cheers, tour buddies.”

 

Rey and Finn clinked their glasses to his, collectively joining the celebration. From across the room, her eyes landed directly on Ben’s without a moment of thought. She immediately desired to know his reaction.

 

Ben smiled.

 

⟵ ♡ ⟶

 

“Good afternoon.”

 

The pack of reporters in the press room mumbled collective greetings in response.

 

Press Secretary Kaydel Ko Connix stood behind the podium. She straightened her paperwork and cleared her throat, eyeing the cameras that broadcasted her to millions of viewers at home.

 

“I would like to begin with reading a press release from the President and then we will move forward to answering questions from the media.”

 

Cameras fluttered and pens scratched.

  

> _“As the head of the Executive Branch and as the Commander in Chief, I have a unique Constitutional responsibility to protect all citizens of the United States of America. Today in fulfilling that obligation, I have decided to appoint Poe Dameron, a student leader in the Never Again committee and orator for the March for Our Lives, into a coordinator’s position of a college campus campaign tour. He will be working alongside other student leaders, including my own daughter, Rey Kenobi.”_

 

Instantaneously, the room detonated into a performance of flickers, anxious hands and shushing from superiors.

 

Secretary Connix waited for the clamor to settle before continuing.

  

> _“They will be joined by a team of adept experts and enrolled student interns to visit college campuses throughout the month of July. The tour will be funded by the generous campaign donations from Kenobi voters and corporate sponsors. We will be collaborating with students and non-profit organizations to assemble volunteers at every tour stop. The budget, the complete sponsor and faculty roster, as well as the tour dates, will be made available on a website. This will be publicly announced later this week. The tour will begin following the July Fourth Celebration on the National Mall this weekend.”_

 

Every fiber and molecule in the room was jumping and pulsating, just waiting for the opportunity to properly and professionally react.

 

> _“Thank you. Any further inquiries and requests for interviews can be redirected to Amilyn Holdo, the press representative and aide for the tour.”_

 

Secretary Connix glanced up from her paperwork. She cleared her throat, embracing the impending shitstorm that would be sent her way.

 

“We will now accept questions from the press.”

 

Every single arm in the room skyrocketed into the air.


	6. Happy Birthday

**Chapter Six**

Happy Birthday

⟵ ♡ ⟶

 

Besides the inauguration of a new president or the first bloom of the cherry blossoms, the busiest week in Washington was the celebration of the country’s independence.

 

The best part of the weekend was how alive the city felt. Hotels were booked, museums were swamped, bars were spilling onto the street, and vendors sold flags on popsicle sticks or home-made political buttons. When she was fifteen, Rey had worn a button that read _Kenobi Bologna_ to a state dinner. She was grounded for three months.

 

Despite the poetic aspect, the influx of tourists and politicians from around the world was always a migraine.

 

Every year, Rey was forced to celebrate the Fourth of July with her family. She’d wear a beautiful red, white, or blue dress (sometimes all three colors at once) and smile until her jaw went sore. She’d wave at tourists and stand straight during the anthem. She’d shake hands with international ambassadors and take pictures with the kids of Governors—even if their state swayed blue or red.

 

This year, Rey jumped at the opportunity to escape the throng of people and nauseating itinerary.

 

It wasn’t always miserable.

 

There were also many benefits to being the First Daughter of the United States.

 

Buying out roller rinks, backstage passes to Lollapalooza, and day trips to Chicago for deep-panned pizza were just a few of Rey’s notable stunts.

 

But her _absolute_ _favorite_?

 

“Everything has been loaded,” Amilyn Holdo shouted over the deafening noise.

 

The hatch was pulled open and inside, the emergency lights flickered for visibility.

 

“The rest of the team is already in New York.”

 

Amilyn Holdo was the assigned aide to the college campus tour. A recently retired professor with a history in communication and public relations, she was most suitable for the job.

 

Yet, according to the whispers in the hallway, most of the aides were trying to dodge the bullet. Rey’s college tour had been labeled as a silent career killer. No one expected her to pull off a positive publicity stunt.

 

Nonetheless, if she was worried, she didn’t express it.

 

Instead, she stood sanguine and gestured with her hands. The crowd of travelers ambled through the grass of the lawn. They moved one-by-one, past a line of saluting soldiers.

 

Chirping birds sketched upon the navy-blue dawn were disturbed by the rattling sound.

The sun had yet to rise but it did not stop onlookers from standing along the perimeter. They peered through the railings of the iron fence with curiosity, standing on their tippy toes and hopeful to catch a glimpse of anyone recognizable.

 

The blades of a helicopter were whirring, sending reverberations of wind from its epicenter. It scattered loose articles from the fallen leaves, to the strands of Rey’s hair.

 

She walked in sync with Agent Solo, their stride hacking through the grass with confidence.

 

There were questions in how he always managed to look put-together. Even at four in the morning, his suit was ironed flat and his tie was centered perfectly. On his right peck, he wore a small pin of the American flag.

 

“Go through it, one more time.” She glanced over at him, tucking her whipping hair behind her ears. Her eyes were tired. “For me, please.”

 

“The ride will take a little under two hours,” he glanced at his Apple Watch. His finger slid across the squared screen, down the timed itinerary. “We will land on the pad off thirtieth street, where chartered rides will transport us to the studio. They will have breakfast in your green rooms. You go on live television at seven. Then, Poe will be transported to radio stations for further interviews. Later, you have a Fourth of July party at the _PUBLIC_ Hotel. The full guest list has already been through security clearance.”

 

Throughout it all, Rey just kept nodding and bobbing her head until it started to lull.

 

In translation: it was going to be a long fucking day.

 

“Great.”

 

She must’ve been the worst liar on the planet because Ben patted her shoulder.

 

“You’ll do great, champ.”

 

It took every cell in Rey’s body to sustain the eye roll. Instead, she came to a complete halt.

 

She eyed the line of soldiers that stood tall. They kept their eyesight straight. Their chins were high.

 

Something in Rey swirled with familiarity.

 

 

> _It’s always a performance._ Her mom’s voice whispered. Her fingers fumbled through her hair, pulling them into a red barretts. The silent hum of an engine stitched her voice together. _Show me again before you do it for daddy._

 

Without much contemplation, Rey raised her right hand to her browline.

 

In her peripheral, the flashes of cameras strobed into a frenzy. She held the pose for several seconds before returning to her hip and walking forward, climbing up and into the helicopter’s passenger body.

 

“Were we supposed to do that?” Finn shouted into his headpiece.

 

“No, babe.” Poe smacked his forehead. _“It’s a Presidential thing.”_

 

“Oh.”

 

Rey settled into her seat, unaware of the conversation taking place. Through the combination of the engine and the blades overhead, it was indisputably impossible to hear a word.

 

She tugged her seatbelt across her chest, snapping it secure. From the front, Ben eyed her to ensure she was settled in correctly and comfortably. She reached above and unhatched the headphones assigned to hear seat. On the bar of the device, buttons were available for group conversation and private channels.  

 

“Testing,” Amilyn Holdo announced through her piece. “Can you guys hear okay?”

 

Everyone nodded or gave a thumbs up.

 

The hatch came to a slam shut and with a tickle of Rey’s stomach, the helicopter lifted from the ground. Everyone, except Rey, grasped the nearest railing or secured handlebar. Instead, she smiled with fastened lips and enjoyed the sensation of the helicopter aviating higher and higher into the air.

 

The best part was climbing the floors of nearby buildings like an elevator before finally being amongst the clouds.

 

Rey plastered her forehead against the glass and watched the movement of the city below. Colors and lights illuminated the blocks. The bustling pedestrians became specks and the street lamps soon morphed into orbs of light as they grew higher into the air.

 

Every single speck below lived their own life as vivid and complex as her own.

 

It was a weird thought to process and one she considered often. Sometimes, politicians forgot who they were truly making decisions for.

 

In the air, they were joined by a group of other helicopters. Rey was almost sure the ground control kept their course clear of action as jets circled from higher above for security purposes.

 

As they grew in height and escaped the city, the brink of sunlight became visible on the Atlantic ocean’s horizon.

 

“You’re welcome.”

 

His sudden response sent her into a small jump. She hit her head on the metal railing of the ceiling, causing her to squint and wince. The agony subsided as she rubbed and shot him a daring glare across the cabin.

 

“What am I thanking you for?” She replied.

 

Poe and Finn were too busy taking Snapchats while Amilyn Holdo typed furiously on her phone. Their private communication channel was not linked to their headsets. They could talk freely with no one listening in.

 

Ben decided to sit in the front seat, beside the pilot. He twisted in his seatbelt to better glance at her.

 

“I made sure we got to New York by helicopter. I told them it was safest and quickest.”

 

Rey felt foolishly tempted by the small smile on his face. It was almost testing the waters.

 

“Why?”

 

“I remember you said you enjoyed helicopter rides.”

 

“You remembered that?”

 

The corner of his smile twisted even higher, causing a wave of wrinkles through his cheeks.

 

“How could I forget?”

 

⟵ ♡ ⟶

 

Rey wasn’t sure when she drifted into sleep. Eventually, the excitement of being in a helicopter subsided for Finn and Poe. The clatter on the headpieces fell silent sometime over Delaware.

 

The cartwheel her stomach did during the landing shook her awake.

 

She sat up quickly, glancing around the cabin at the other occupants. Along the helipad, an entire entourage of bulletproof supersized vans were awaiting them. Several secret service members, including some familiar faces, were standing alongside the fence and eyeing the tourists that awaited their charters to view the city.

 

Instead, Marine One had landed.

 

Ben suddenly assumed the role of Agent Solo. A curtain of sterness blanketed his face as he climbed from the helicopter, pressing his earpiece. “White Hawk has landed. I have the Scavenger, Rebel and—”

 

“Do I get a nickname?” Finn interrupted.

 

_“—and Maverick.”_

 

Agent Solo glared at Finn, who equally expressed his excitement of the Top Gun reference. Beside him, Poe had his chin raised. He stared in awe at the skyscrapers. It was a whole other world in comparison to the marbled museums of Capitol Hill.

 

Amilyn Holdo pushed her sunglasses up the bridge of her nose, striding off to one of the chartered vehicles. Her mouth moved quickly as she snapped orders and directions, reiterating the schedule they had already repeated to memorization.

 

Rey slid from her seat and rounded the chopper to join them.

 

At the sight of her, the crowd of waiting tourists suddenly grew in sound. They pointed their fingers or turned their selfie sticks in her direction.

 

Celebrity sightings in New York were normal.

 

But the President’s daughter? That was worthy to brag over a Thanksgiving dinner table.

 

“Let’s go,” Agent Solo held out his arm, gesturing towards the escort. “We need to get to the studio. I’m sure you guys are hungry.”

 

⟵ ♡ ⟶

 

If her father never became the leader of the country, Rey often wondered where she would be in life. Sometimes she would curate little stories in her head and plot the story of a character in some distant world.

 

Maybe she’d be riding a scooter around the streets of Paris, stuffing the threaded front basket with goods and pastries. Her helmet would be covered in stickers she had ordered online.

 

Perhaps she’d be scavenging through the layers of cementation in the Badlands, covering her cheeks in specks of dirt and yanking prehistoric bones from the earth.

 

Sometimes, she’d like to think she’d still be in Vermont. Every winter, sawing a circle in the ice for fishing and sledding down the slopes of their resort.

 

She’d be off to college soon, wherever that would be. Her parents would post cheesy things on their Facebook wall for their old colleagues and classmates to like and comment on. She’d go to the mall on Friday nights and have soccer games on Saturday mornings. She’d have experienced prom, and first dates, and falling in love and out of love and back into love.

 

That wasn’t the case, though.  

 

She lived a life of the other knowing her name, before she even had the chance to shake their hand. A life of privilege, maxed out credit cards and irresponsibility with no consequence.

 

Instead, she was in a green room of the Good Morning America studio in New York City.

 

A stylist was combing through her curls while another reapplied mascara.

 

In the adjacent director’s chair, Finn was swiping horizontal and vertical on his phone. By the annoying buzzing and crunching, Rey assumed he was playing Candy Crush. The nerves had yet to settle, they hadn’t consumed him yet.

 

Contrary, Poe was pacing the room. Rey watched him in the mirror. In the midst of stuffing his face with jelly donuts, he was reciting the prepared answers he had written days beforehand. He licked the powder from his fingers, enunciating a word.

 

Finn rejoiced a virtually win but his high five remained in the air.

 

“What’s up, peanut?” He asked.

 

“You’re not nervous?”

 

He shrugged. “No, of course, I’m nervous.”

 

“You don’t show it,” Rey retorted.

 

“Well, yeah.”

 

In the reflection of the vanity, he stared at Rey.

 

She remained silent.

 

Finn twisted in his chair, a leg tucked beneath the other. He took a moment to really look at her.

 

Rey continued to watch him in the mirror, unable to move her head without burning herself. Tucked behind her ear, a hot iron was twisted-up into a loose curl.

 

“You can’t show them that you’re nervous. It distracts from the message.”

 

For the moment she considered his words, she equally became aware of how little she knew about what Finn’s desire was. They rarely spoke about the future or their plans. With her days being consistently scheduled and planned, the thought of a tomorrow was nauseated. That detail was always glossed over.

 

“My parents are upset I came.”

 

Rey raised an eyebrow. Instinctively, she turned her neck but the curling iron burning against her skin made her jump and return straight ahead. Immediately, the stylist consistently apologized.

 

“It’s okay, it’s okay, my fault.”

 

Finn pressed his lips together, concealing a smile.

 

“Why are they upset?”

 

“They’re lobbyist. They know how stubborn these people are.”

 

“You didn’t have to come if it was going to create problems. I know you’re supportive.”

 

In the reflection of the mirror, she could tell Poe was listening. Even if he pretended to read off his study cards. His lips were barely moving now and his pace had slowed.

 

Finn shook his head. “No way I was going to miss out on this.”

 

Facetiously, Rey cracked the knuckles down her hands like a Glissando on the piano.

 

She smirked. “I’ll make sure they go easy on you.”

 

Jointly, Finn and Poe both laughed. In the mirror, she could see a smile crack in one of the stylists.

 

“You’re not the only rebel in this friendship.”

 

⟵ ♡ ⟶

 

Through the curtains, she watched the hosts of the morning show. They spoke diligently and eyed the cameras that rolled on the floor of the studio. Prompts relayed their script behind them with an in-studio crowd that clapped or awed or sighed at the appropriate times.

 

“Nervous?”

 

His voice startled her.

 

“Sorry,” he mumbled before joining her side.

 

“I’ll be fine.” She whispered. They had to keep their voices down on set, careful not to let a microphone or camera pick them up.

 

“Just let Poe do most of the talking if you don’t know the answer.”

 

Rey glared up at Ben. “I can speak for myself.”

 

“I’m not questioning that. Just don’t allow the reporters to walk all over you or discredit the entire tour because you don’t know a statistic or the correct pronunciation of a town.”

 

“Poe helped me the entire night before, thank you very much.”

 

Ben cleared his throat. “All I keep hearing is how helpful Poe is.”

 

Her eyes narrowed as he honed on his tone and choice of vocabulary. The thought was just as fleeting as the feeling it may have created in Ben.

 

“Finn was also helpful.”

 

“I’m sure he brought lots of snacks.”

 

Rey stifled a laugh. Equally, he started to smile and hold his own chuckle.

The moment of solidarity between them was meager.

 

Suddenly, his face melted stern. With two fingers he swiped her freshly-curled hair past her shoulder. His eyes sunk into the lilac bruise in the crook of her neck, just below her ear. It was not explicitly noticeable, unless you really took in the detail.

 

Rey felt her face flush. “What?”

 

“What— _is this?_ ”

 

She raised her hand, touching the location his eyes refused to pull from.

 

“Oh,” she shrugged. “The curling iron.”

 

He refused to peel his eyes away. They could burn identical marks into her skin, as well. He searched her face for microaggressions that would betray her words, anything that displayed accuracy and honesty.

 

“Relax,” Rey rolled her eyes. “I moved my head and the stylist got me.”

 

“I believe you,” he pulled his hand back to his side and lowered his stiff shoulders.

 

She chewed on her lip. The same fleeting thought crossed her. This time, she took the bite.

 

“What? Are you jealous?”

 

“Excuse me?”

 

“Rey, call for studio.”

 

“I said, you’re jealous?”

 

Ben stuttered, searching for a word in the dictionary that could explain his hesitation.

 

Rey walked backwards onto the floor, smirking at Ben’s direction. With a quick wink, she pivoted on her heel and shook the hands of the America’s most watched morning show.

 

⟵ ♡ ⟶

 

“What you guys are doing is truly inspiring.”

 

Finn, Rey and Poe collectively nodded their heads and thanked the hosts.

 

They sat at a table with mugs of coffee or tea in front of them. The label of the show on the side facing the camera for publicity purposes. The studio audience all smiled and their eyes watched their every move. Through the lens of the camera, Rey was sure that millions of more were watching at home.

 

It was her first public interview without her parents sitting next to her.

 

“What sprung the idea of the tour?”

 

“Rey and I went to the march in Washington,” Finn replied.

 

“You were there?” The host echoed. She sounded puzzled.

 

“We were in the crowd,” he added. “We were observing, more like.”

 

“And Poe, I understand you organized the demonstration?”

 

“Not all by myself, I worked in collaboration with a bunch of satellite groups, student interns, and volunteers.”

 

“Impressive. I understand that you are fresh from graduate school?”

 

“Yes,” Poe nodded. He cleared his throat. “I graduated from Jakku University in the spring, two days after the shooting.”

 

“Could you tell us about that day?”

 

Beneath the table, Rey played with her fingers. She hadn’t answered a single question yet. Instead, the boys tackled the start of the conversation. She tried to follow along as she read the prompter of designated questions on the horizon.

 

Ben stood in the curtains, watching with Amilyn Holdo.

 

The words outside her head were distant. 

 

“It was only eight minutes but it felt like eternity.”

 

“So, would you say that the college campus tour is advocating exclusively for gun control?”

 

“No,” Rey blurted.

 

Beside her, Finn and Poe swiveled in their chairs to look at her. She forced a smile.

 

“I meant,” she started over. “The goal of the tour is to listen to the younger generation and the issues that they want Capitol Hill to hear. Gun control included, yes. But it does not start or end with that agenda.”

 

The host smiled. “Any other issues you are expecting to delve on?”

 

“I’m sure we will hear about college tuition. The current state of the economy and how much it costs to live. We plan on meeting with different school coalitions and groups.”

 

“Will we expect to see the President at any stops?”

 

“The tour coincides with his but we are a separate entity.”

 

“Is there any collaboration going on?”

 

“We funded the tour with donations. My father has appointed staff to help us organize it.”

 

“Is he going to back the notion?”

 

Poe nervously kept his eyes on Rey. Her and the host were bouncing off one another. The room equally went silent around them as they kept their eyes to one another.

 

The truth was, her father had yet to do anything on his end. He was probably testing her. He wanted to see how serious Rey was about this, or if it was just another small obsession like her k-pop phase. He wasn't going to make serious moves this close to the election, she was foolish to believe anything but. 

 

“I cannot speak for my father,” she repeated the words Amilyn had consistently drilled into her. “However, he is going to listen. The point of this tour is to listen. We want to start a conversation, no matter what party or background. We want to hear the pleas of the future.”

 

The host nodded. “If your father is re-elected into office this upcoming November, will you work more diligently with him? Will you help advocate to the stories you hear?”

 

“Of course. Now that I’m eighteen, I plan to be more active.”

 

“Any thoughts to college?”

 

Rey could feel the blood stipple from her cuticles. The conversation had wildly gone off track from the college tour. The point was to promote and get more people to donate or volunteer. It wasn’t to discuss and write a profile on her life outside of politics.

 

“I’m currently applying. The college campus tour will be visiting plenty of remarkable schools in our country. I am very excited to talk to administrators, faculty, and students to learn from them firsthand what the experience is like.”

 

She refused to look away, but she secretly hoped that Ben was smiling. She could already tell that Amilyn was clenching her fists.

 

“Out of the three of you, which topic are you most passionate about?”

 

The host jetted from the conversation and Rey felt a wave of relief.

 

She lowered her shoulders and took a deep inhale.

 

“Gun control."

 

“Police brutality.”

 

The host slowly nodded, her eyes going down the line. They finally settled on Rey.

 

 

> _“Sometimes, it’s easier to just jump in. Rather than tiptoe along the surf.”_
> 
>  
> 
> _“But dad,” she whined. “The water is cold.”_
> 
>  
> 
> _“Trust me. You can never learn how to swim until you're drowning."_

 

Rey exhaled. “Everything.”

  


⟵ ♡ ⟶

 

They covered the block like vermin.

 

When they exited the studio, Rey kept her head hung and hidden.

 

She could feel Ben’s body beside her as they trudged through the barricades. He had offered his headphones and the music of her Spotify blasted in her ear, echoing out their slaughter of words.

 

The cameras flashed and she squeezed her fingers tighter on his jacket, her knuckles curling into the silky fabric. She refused to let go of refuge. He was the only buoy in the middle of the ocean.

 

Over the music, she could hear him shouting commands. They circled and struck. Their signs danced in the air. Their chants stayed on beat.

 

The door of the Tahoe slammed shut and all she could hear were the notes of her favorite song. 

 

Agent Solo climbed into the front seat and the car pulled from the sidewalk in the direction of their hotel. She blanked out, watching the streets as they drove. If he was talking, she wasn't aware. The music just got louder and louder. 

 

⟵ ♡ ⟶

 

“No answering questions, no political statements, no drugs, no public displays of affection, no drinking, no visitors back to the room, and absolutely—”

 

“Whoa, no drinking?” Rey stammered.

 

Agent Solo raised his head from the list he read from his Apple Watch. The publicist had emailed it over in the afternoon about the conduct expected at the evening.

 

“You’re all underage.”

 

“I’m twenty-eight,” Poe added.

 

“Fine. Poe can drink.”

 

Finn and Rey glanced at one another before back at Agent Solo. The words they spoke jumbled together into a mess of whining and complaints.

 

Ben glared at the elevator. There was still sixteen more floors until they reached the rooftop. The venture was everlasting. He groaned, flailing his arms in the air.

 

“Fine!” He shouted. “One drink.”

 

The silence swept through their elevator and for a moment, all you could hear was the beep of each floor. Rey’s lips crept into satisfaction as she leaned against the wall. Equally, Finn looked pleased with himself.

 

“Do not mention this to any other aide and do not get me in trouble tonight.”

 

“We would never,” Rey sarcastically sung.

 

His eyes shot across at her, glaring in a chastised manner.

 

The elevator doors opened and he extended his arm out. “After you, princess.”

 

⟵ ♡ ⟶

 

New York parties were different from Hollywood.

 

For starters, the landscape was not a mountain or the blue-hue of a hazy evening. Instead, it was darkness masked by the illuminated cityscape of skyscrapers that battled over who was the tallest. They stood on their tippy toes and held their chins high, striking the sky with their architecture.

 

The food and drink menus were catered differently too. The taste in fashion and the bickering of their nine-to-five life was absolute. The drugs they choose in the bathroom was equally contrasting.

 

 _PUBLIC_ hotel’s rooftop bar had an inside disc jockey, as well as an outdoor, 360-panoramic view. Vines and flora covered in the walls, their vegetation threaded into the wiring and metal of the modern look. In every corner, lights illuminated in a cycle of the rainbow beneath tabletops and counters.

 

Faces in the crowd were familiar. Some from television, high-fashion, politics, or just the most-liked on Instagram this month of socialite culture. When their crew passed Rey’s own entourage, they’d smile before whispering their comments beneath their breath.

 

She did not need their validation. The day had gone well and all she could think about was the open-service bar and the tender that wouldn’t dare card her.

 

“Behave,” Agent Solo warned.

 

He disappeared into the crowd, leaving the trio to themselves. The moment his suit blended into the other black ties and gowns of the crowd, their feet quickened to the nearest bar.

 

Rey leaned against the counter, smiling at the bartender.

 

“What can I get you?”

 

She asked despite knowing the President’s daughter was likely underage. In the care of all the elites and all the hired security, it wouldn’t be an issue. The hotel floor was a lawless place.

 

“Can I have a mojito? Light mint leaves, please. They get stuck in my straw.”

 

“Anything else?”

 

“Blood orange margarita,” Finn ordered.

 

“Vodka pineapple,” Poe added.

 

The bartender bobbed his head before wandering down the bar to assemble their drinks.

 

Rey found her eyes glancing through the room for Ben. She couldn’t place him, but she was sure that his eyes were on her. He wouldn’t dare let her wander off into this party, if he said he would back-off. She knew he wouldn’t trust even the richest of Manhattan.

 

Knowing he was probably watching, she grew conscious of the basic moments she made, from twiddling with her hair, to reapplying her lipstick.

 

“Question.”

 

She hummed in return, disregarding the seriousness in Finn’s tone.

 

“You and Agent Solo?”

 

Rey froze.

 

“Am I missing something?” Poe added.

 

“What is there to miss?” Finn remarked. She could practically hear the smirk in his voice. “You too seem,” his voice trailed before he collected it. “Closer?”

 

“We get along.”

 

“Better than the other agents?” Finn asked.

 

She nodded.

 

“Except, better-better.”

 

The bartender returned to their corner. He placed the three drinks on the counter. Immediately Rey took a swig at her drink while Finn slid the tip across. He kept his eyes locked on her.

 

“We’re friends. He’s helping me get into college.”

 

“Is that part of his responsibility as your bodyguard?”

 

Poe’s eyes flickered between them. He watched the inner workings of a decade-old friendship tackle the elephant in the room. Silently, he enjoyed the tea while sipping on his own alcoholic refreshment.

 

“He’s just being a good person.”

 

“You haven’t tried to get him fired yet. It’s unlike you.”

 

“Well, yeah.” She scoffed. “I wouldn’t mind keeping him around.”

 

Finn raised an eyebrow.

 

Whether it was the heat beneath her applied blush, or tremble of her hands around the mojito, she could feel something begin to boil up. Genuinely, Rey had a difficult time proving herself.

 

She didn’t have feelings for Ben. He was her bodyguard. It would be absurd to even think of that possibility springing between them.

 

“We aren’t fucking, Finn.”

 

Poe choked on his vodka. Standing beside the bar, he hit his chest with a close fist as he coughed up whatever he swallowed.

 

“Never said anything about fucking, peanut.”

 

Grumbling, she forfeited the fight. Rey slid off her barstool and disappeared into the crowd. In her absence, Poe took the seat. His face was red from the moment of sudden death.

 

“Why are you smiling?” He inquired.

 

“It’s just,” Finn sipped his margarita. “She sucks at lying.”

 

⟵ ♡ ⟶

 

This day had always been difficult for Ben.

 

It’d typically trigger unwarranted memories or recollections.

 

He’d itch at his ankles, frolicking through the knee-high grasslands. He’d giggle and roll and tackle and jump. His mother would pack a sandwich and they’d light sparklers, dancing and dragging the streaks of light behind their every move. They’d lay in the bed of his father’s truck and watch the combustion of light over Lake Michigan.

 

He could never forget the scintillating falling stars reflecting off the surface of the tide.

 

Celebration was misguided.

 

With every burst of color in the sky, he’d see the explosion in the back of his eyelids. He’d hear the radio frequency of his captain and the whine of his fallen contingents.

 

He wasn’t one for pool parties or barbecues or drinking games.

 

It was easier if he sunk into a state of dissociation. He could observe, yet never participate.

 

“You ever think about loosening up?”

 

He relaxed his shoulders, suddenly conscious of how stiff they had become. The twinge in his gut started to climb each spinal cord like a ladder, reaching the base of his skull.

 

He broke the surface and inhaled sharply.

 

“I’m on the job.”

 

Rey approached apprehensively. She leaned against the railing of the balcony and watched him with a portrait painter’s intention, dragging her eyes through his detail. She never noticed the moles and freckles that haphazardly speckled his face before.

 

“Everyone is celebrating.”

 

Ben fixed his collar, tugging on his tie to straighten it. “Not an excuse to let my guard down.”

 

“Here,” Rey extended her arm, offering one of the two champagne glasses she was holding.

 

His eyebrow rose, eyeing the proposal.

 

“Take it.”

 

“How much have you drank?” He glanced over his shoulder and observed the crowd.

 

The attendants of the party were all socialites, political debs, or celebrities. The rooftop of the hotel was reserved for their private event and hired security strewed through the area. The floor was virtually locked down.

 

New York’s cityscape painted the background of a settling sun and cloudless sky. The outdoor terrace was their Mount Olympus. They floated over the veins of the city.

 

Wind blew a loose curl over Rey’s face. She tucked it behind her ear and shrugged.

 

“I lost count.”

 

“You need to be careful. Someone would pay big bucks for a photo of that.”

 

“No one here needs to worry about making rent this month.”

 

His eyes casually climbed her body. Her stiletto’s walked through paint, covered in a layer of crimson beneath the heel. Tulle hugged her arms and collarbone, perfectly stitched into the custom-made _TOM FORD_ cocktail dress. With each movement she made, her earrings dangled in quintessence.

 

He accepted the glass. “You look nice.”

 

“Thank you.”

 

Rey turned away and fixated on her glass. She sucked the inside of her cheeks, desperate to conceal the start of a blush. The copper-orange bubbled, meeting her nose with the aroma of a freshly baked brioche.

 

“How do you think today went?” She added.

 

Somehow, she cared about his opinion and inquired for it. It was the same feeling from the restaurant, when Poe Dameron had agreed to join the campaign tour. It was the same validation when she sought to apply for college. Nonetheless, at the end of the day, the assessment of her head security agent was not all that necessary or vital.

 

She still wanted it, though.

 

Ben sipped his champagne. “Better than anticipated.”

 

“Bringing Poe onboard improved the narrative.”

 

He nodded in agreeance. “So did you.”

 

In the distance of the skyscrapers, the fireworks show started to illuminate over the Hudson River. Ben focused on the reflection of colors over the surf, leaning his forearms over the balcony.

 

"Can I ask you something?" Rey asked.

 

"Anything."

 

"Were you jealous?" She notioned to her neck. 

 

He took a moment to churn over the question. Why would he be jealous? Did jealousy always entail feelings? Romantically? Or platonically? He couldn't be jealous. If he admitted to anything of that, it would be a nail in the casket. He would indirectly be conceding to something far more intense. 

 

"I was just worried. We would have needed to cover that up before national television. We wouldn't want the public talking."

 

"Aah, of course." She surrendered. 

 

“Did you get your letters of recommendation?”

 

Completely disregarding his question, Rey returned her own. “Why didn’t you go to college?”

 

He forfeited fencing her in the manner. “I couldn’t afford it.”

 

“You couldn’t apply for financial aid?”

 

“I wasn’t interested in anything. It would have been a waste of my time and my money.”

 

“But,” she begun.

 

Ben straightened up, turning to face her.

 

They were way too close that Rey had to tilt her head to meet his face.

 

“College is not an option for everyone,” he kept his voice low and hoarse. In the distance, fireworks crackled and burst. “My mother died when I was a senior in high school and the very next day I signed the paperwork at the recruiting office.”

 

“I’m sorry. I didn’t know.”

 

“It’s okay,” he mumbled.

 

He leaned back onto the balcony and folded his fingers into one another.

 

All around them, the city and the party commenced. Shrieks, chants, music, honking, and bursting of pyrotechnic bombs. They were a never-ending circle in a labyrinth of celebration.

 

“Why did you choose the secret service when you came home?”

 

“I didn’t choose it,” he admitted. “I was offered a position.”

 

Rey raised her eyebrow. “When did you become an agent?”

 

“Why does it matter?”

 

“I’m only asking a question.”

 

“You ask a lot of questions.”

 

Before a glimmer of a glare could cross her face, she looked away.

 

Over the river, the fireworks continued to tango with the stars.

 

Nothing could explain why Rey had the urge to know more about her personal agent. It was a nosedive into the deep end as she secretly enjoyed the asphyxiation. He was new, and different, and interesting. He didn’t treat her like a child and he didn’t treat her like a paycheck.

 

Her face reflected the burst of a red firework.

 

Ben took note as he watched her instead of the celebration in the sky.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please comment and give kudos. It fuels me to write faster and better! ♡


	7. Checkmate

**Chapter Seven**

Checkmate

⟵ ♡ ⟶

 

A slick of sweat coated his body. It drenched the thin tee he had grabbed in the morning’s darkness. Besides the identical suits that hung from designated hangers and organized for occasion, he owned plenty of workout gear. 

 

The best time to go for a run was before the sun could bask the city. 

 

Embassy Row was his absolute favorite route. It was alluring, no matter the season. 

 

It felt quintessentially Washington. 

 

He’d leave from outside his apartment and head in the direction of the cathedral before returning. Along the street, he’d pass by diplomatic missions of over forty distinctive countries. Running this strip was like taking a tour. It was over a hundred years of architectural history and political projection. 

 

Around four in the morning, the ambitious city was still starting to wake. There was less pedestrian froggering. Ben could focus more on the townhouses or erected lavish residencies he passed. He’d eye the flags that would drift in the wind, guessing the countries they belonged to. 

 

He was still trying to decipher some of the patterns. He’d keep mental note of their colors or designs. He was never one for world geography in high school, but traveling was the best perk of his job. 

 

The Irish flag beckoned him to focus on breathing and pace instead. 

 

_ Inhale. Exhale. One more block. Inhale. Exhale.  _

 

Vertical stripes of green, white and orange. It reeked metallic and tasted like iron. It felt like a sharp stab in his abdomen. Just to the left, a bit below the stomach. 

 

He skid to a stop, veering around the corner of the block. The clench of his gut felt pragmatic and too familiar. He had ran enough for the morning. 

 

By the time he had reached Dupont Circle, the Saxbys coffee house was open. He entered with a ring of the doorbell and a blast of the air conditioning unit. Taking a seat in the window, Ben settled with an iced americano and a copy of  _ The Washington Post. _

 

_ She’s impossible to escape.  _

 

Even now, with her beaming face on the front cover. 

 

Rey followed his every move and poisoned his thoughts. 

 

She made him turnover in bed at night and think twice. Work had to be more diligent. His step to the train station were more quick every sunrise. Through the blurred lines of the black font, the journalists and editors had no idea the personal struggle, the patience, and the assiduousness she was displaying. It was not for show. The passion was equally as strong in private.

 

The public may not have believed it but with time, they would. 

 

Every politician had a way with words. The ones that blanketed history books were just as critical in their actions. 

 

Rey was a moving hurricane. Her center was calm and only chaos surrounded her. The destruction she laid in her wake was enough to rally an entire community to hug one another. 

 

Ben sipped his coffee, flipping the page. Rey’s bubbly entity was not contagious enough for the mysterious figure on page two. 

 

Snoke was an older man from middle America. He was stagy with his speeches. His words could contaminate the holy water of a church. Discouragement lost him the election in 2020. 

 

Married with no children, the American family had a difficult time relating to him. He did not understand the necessary needs of the political environment at the time. The agenda he ran on was no match to the political lovebirds from Vermont and their beautiful daughter.

 

Whether it was revenge or incited optimism, Snoke was running on the opposing ticket once again in 2024 against Kenobi’s reelection. 

 

He was bestiring the voters that lost their enthusiasm the past four years. 

 

Dissatisfaction with the progress made in office tied with the familial controversy that surrounded the Kenobi family was his forefront in propaganda commercials. They plagued the airwaves and the television channels. 

 

It was why Satine and Obi were stressing family values and responsibility. 

 

It was why the President entrusted his most dedicated and thoughtful recruit with the assignment of keeping his contentious daughter in check. 

 

Admittingly so, it was not difficult work. She was developing all on her own. 

 

_ Ba-ding.  _

 

The notification noise echoed in his bluetooth earphones. He untucked the pieces from his ear canals to settle the wire around his neck. He yanked open the running armband, pulling his iPhone out. 

 

> **\- Rey | 5:46 AM -**
> 
> GUESS WHAT. 
> 
>  
> 
> **\- Rey | 5:47 AM -**
> 
> Attachment.docx

 

His thumb hovered the screen before he pressed the document. It loaded quickly on the shop’s internet connection. 

 

Ben gawked long enough for the pixels to bleed into his enervated eyes. He skimmed the lines that spoke profoundly and equally exceptionally of Rey’s character and integrity. 

 

On the final page, the letter was signed by Vice President Ahsoka Tano. 

 

> **\- Ben | 5:52 AM -**
> 
> Holy. Shit.
> 
>  
> 
> **\- Rey | 5:53 AM -**
> 
> Two more to go!
> 
>  
> 
> **\- Ben | 5:54 AM -**
> 
> I think any university in the world would accept you based on this letter alone. 

 

⟵ ♡ ⟶

 

A pumpkin spiced latte sat beside her plate. It looked out of place with the imported brunch, yet it tasted better in her opinion. 

 

She stared at the printed name on the label. Ben was starting to make it a habit to bring her coffee or smoothies or tea during the day. She couldn’t find herself to complain because it was an excuse to talk and see him when it wasn’t necessary. 

 

The table was full of aides that discussed the schedule of the two tours. 

 

Words bled into one another. A whisk melted them together in the pot. 

 

She watched her father’s mouth move across the table but nothing came out. 

 

> _ “Screwdriver?”  _
> 
>  
> 
> _ “Screwdriver.” _
> 
>  
> 
> _ “Pliers?” _
> 
>  
> 
> _ “Pliers.” _
> 
>  
> 
> _ He slammed the hood. His face was dirtied by smudges of oil.  _
> 
>  
> 
> _ “Give her a kick,” he wiped his hands on a rag.  _
> 
>  
> 
> _ Wiggling, she struggled to climb up into the driver’s seat. A bit too short, according to the horizontal lines she kept on the doorframe, she extended her leg as far out as she could to reach the brake.  _
> 
>  
> 
> _ She turned the key and the motor coughed before turning over into a nice hum.  _
> 
>  
> 
> _ A grin painted his face. “There we go.” _
> 
>  
> 
> _ Rey squirmed from the seat. She rounded the car and collapsed into him. His laughter was muffled from how deep she compressed her noggin into his side. Her father’s hands raked through her hair, detangling the strands. It beckoned her to lift her chin.  _
> 
>  
> 
> _ “Good job, little dove.” _
> 
>  
> 
> _ She was splattered in mechanic oil. Baby teeth were missing from her smile.  _
> 
>  
> 
> _ “You’re just like your old man.” _

 

“You promised.”

 

Silence coated the room. Rey had interrupted a lecture about venue security. Every head turned in her direction but she remained eyelocked on the President. 

 

Calmly, he placed his fork onto his plate. “I did not promise anything.” 

 

“You agreed to follow through and you haven’t.”

 

Her hands were pressed flat against the table. The mahogany trimming glistened from lemon pine cleaner and the soiled truth she spat. She leaned over her plate of untouched lunch. 

 

“Leave us,” the President ordered. 

 

Through the room, every head hung. Aides shuffled their folders of paperwork together, attendants picked up platters that clanked and clattered from discomfort. They quietly convoyed on one another’s tail out of the room. 

 

“Security, too.” 

 

Rey refused to pull her eyes from her father. Even with the sight of Agent Solo hesitating in her peripheral. He took one last glance before exiting and closing the door behind him.

 

“The tour starts tomorrow and you haven’t kept up your side of the deal.”

 

“Exactly,” he rose from his seat. “The tour starts tomorrow.”

 

“I don’t understand.”

 

“I’m losing votes. The last poll had me dangerously close to Governor Snoke.”

 

“What does that have to do with anything?”

 

“Taking a stance on a polarizing topic this close to election is political suicide.” 

 

“It’s the right thing to do.”

 

“And then what? Snoke wins and turns over the legislation his first month in office.”

 

The silence was deafening, yet it was no victory for her father. 

 

“Think, Rey. Use that knowledge you inherited.”

 

“I promised a lot of people action.”

 

“First rule to being a politician. Do not make promises.” 

 

Rey faltered.

 

“I am not a king,” he froze at the window. His eyes scored over the painting of a previous leader. “This is a democracy. I have to be three steps ahead with every single move I make. Sometimes I have to put my personal opinions aside or sacrifice bearings just to keep the peace.”

 

“You’re asking me to build support based on unfulfilled words.”

 

“No,” he turned to face her. 

 

Sometimes, Rey thought she had left her dad behind in Vermont. That the man that took her ice-fishing or mixed Kraft macaroni was still waiting in their conservative cabin by the lake. The figure before her was just an empty vessel in a neverending nightmare. Flannels with suits. Beards with aftershave. Smiles with sternness. 

 

“You want to play a politician? Then act like a politician.” 

 

Rey’s bottom lip trembled. 

 

Her chair screeched along the hardwood flooring. She stood and started her way to door. 

 

“You need to be patient, Rey.” 

 

He was speaking with more urgency now that she was ready to dismiss the entire conversation. 

 

“Do not waste your moves on pawns and rooks,” her father advised.  

 

Rey froze. Her fingers clutched the door’s handle. 

 

“Your mother and I are proud. You do not need to prove anything to us. You have already shown enough growth in just the past few weeks. We have even heard whispers of college and we are supportive of any decision you make. You know that.”

 

His voice was quieter now. 

 

If she closed her eyes, she could pretend it was her childhood bedroom. She could see the sticky glow-in-the-dark stars on her ceiling and the bookshelf full of fables and myths. She could see the father that poked a bustling fire in the chimney and put on VHS movies, even after her mother had called for bedtime. 

 

In a fleeting moment, she could feel her grip loosen. 

 

She felt compelled to collapse into him and just squeeze until her biceps cramped. 

 

It would be a lot easier to abandon the tour. She could pass the torch to Poe Dameron and his legion of volunteers. Instead, she’d change her hair color and runaway to a school hundreds of miles away. 

 

Somewhere she wouldn’t need security but would desire to keep Ben’s company. 

 

Maybe. 

 

“If we win another four years, you can be more involved. I’ll even make sure Finn and Poe are set up with internships or funding for their projects.  _ We can invoke genuine change after the election. _ ”

 

She yanked the door open. 

 

Without looking back, she ushered the sharp-tongue her mother had genetically gifted to her. 

 

“Everyone knows a pawn wins in the endgame.”

 

⟵ ♡ ⟶

 

“Are you sure this is a good idea?”  

 

“You’re paid to take me places,” Rey remarked. “Not give me advice.”

 

Ben bit his tongue. 

 

He wasn’t entirely sure where the attitude had come from. Rey seemed fine in the morning. He brought her a latte and a muffin from Saxbys. She was circling her room, grinning, and talking aimlessly. The tangent flew between packing for the tour and the letter of recommendation from the Vice President. 

 

It wasn’t until an undisclosed late lunch with her father that her mood did a jerk. 

 

The moment she dissociated from the conversation, Ben could see the storm brewing. She hadn’t touched her food and her nose twitched like it always did before a burst. 

 

And judging by her heated expression and prideful strides—his intuition had been correct. 

 

“Yes, you’re right. But as your friend, I can consult some helpful pointers?” 

 

“Finn is my best friend. He has been for years. If anyone can calm me down— _ it’s him. _ ”

 

Rey opened her door. Her body was already halfway out of the vehicle. 

 

“I just think you already have what you need. You already know what you need to do.”

 

“Validation is nice,” she hopped off the seat and onto the pavement. 

 

“I’m giving you reassurance right now.”

 

“It’s your job to do that.” 

 

The door slammed shut. 

 

Mumbling, he mimicked her bratty voice. _ It’s your job to do that. _

 

Finn’s house sat on a hill. The estate was humongous and did not shy away. With every successful feat his parents accomplished in legislation, his family received a fat check. They had a way with words and naturally, so did Finn. 

 

It was why he wore designer clothing and flashy golden-faced watches. It was why every holiday, he seemed to be on an exotic or international vacation somewhere Ben could not pronounce. 

 

Ben had to admit, though. 

 

It was quite amusing to watch Rey stomp up the inclined driveway with a sense of undeterred energy. She looked like a child denied a balloon at the circus. 

 

His eyes chased her every move. 

 

Allowing her to venture and seep out-of-sight was a dangerous game to play. He knew how sharp and cunning Rey had been to previous agents in his position. 

 

The background noise had not silenced. His colleagues would send him messages or sneak glances into his direction. Ben could feel their eyes in the hallways and hear their whispers in the break room or the field at target practice. He perceived they speculated and gambled money on how long he’d last. 

 

It was a bizarre feeling. Walking alongside the President’s daughter gave him an idiosyncratic strength.

 

He had definitely lasted longer than anticipated. 

 

Drumming his fingers on the steering wheel, he swiped through the notifications on his phone aimlessly. There was nothing crucial or worthy of his attention. Just the daily headlines, a system IOS update and an unreviewed voicemail from a Chicago number.  

 

In his peripheral, a swift movement swept his curiosity in that direction. Rey was already dashing across the front yard. She didn’t walk casually on the cobbled steps. Instead, she cut right through the freshly trimmed grass. 

 

Her face grimaced in horror and her pace only quickened the further down the yard she got. 

 

Ben’s mind did a nanosecond checklist. 

 

His gun was on his holster, methodized weapons concealed themselves in his suit and in the compartments of the vehicle, about every tactical device was at the ready for defense. 

 

He could have a house that large cleared in two minutes—a minute thirty if he pushed himself. The nearest agent could provide backup in five minutes. There was a helipad about six miles away but the street was wide enough for a helicopter to land.  _ Marine One _ could have Rey lifted and out of the state in ten minutes. 

 

Her feet scurried to a clumsy stop. Ben froze from removing the concealment on his waistband. 

 

She yanked the backdoor open and pushed herself from the curb into the idled Tahoe. 

 

_ “Drive!” _

 

“Is everything—?”

 

Rey lurched over the partition. She pointed. “Leave the fucking neighborhood!” 

 

“Stop shouting!” He yelled equally as loud.

 

“Can we please just get out of here?” She pleaded, yanking her seatbelt on. 

 

“Didn’t you want to speak to Finn? About your dad?”

 

“Not anymore. He’s busy. Let’s just go home.”

 

“Fine,” Ben mumbled. He pushed the gear stick into drive, following with his foot on the pedal. 

 

_ I am not nearly paid enough to deal with this,  _ he thought. 

 

The jolt of the car settled Rey’s anger. She huffed, falling back into her seat. 

 

Pulling the steering wheel, the Tahoe joined the traffic along the Potomac River. The reflection of blue-hues and citylights glimmered as the sun started to settle. 

 

Over the stone bridge, the Monument was lit by spotlight. 

 

“What happened?” Ben asked.

 

“Bad timing.”

 

“Was he busy?”

 

Rey raised her eyebrows. “Something like that.”

 

“Sometimes it is best to call before inviting yourself over.”

 

Silence. 

 

With each brake in the bumper-to-bumper traffic, his eyes glanced to the rearview mirror. Instead of eyeing the car behind them, he readjusted it to view Rey. Her eyes glimmered. They were wet. Even in the darkness of the car, he could tell. With a twitch of her nose and her forehead plastered against the window, she was stifling a whimper. 

 

It was becoming easier and easier to decipher. 

 

Most likely, she had real friends at a younger age. 

 

Yet, when her parents became more renown in politics, she was probably shipped off to a private boarding school and stolen of her independence. The consequence was her inability to shift through social skills accordingly. There was a learning curve and—although he did not provide any excuse—it wasn’t difficult to understand.

 

She probably felt alone. 

 

He desperately yearned to let her know she wasn’t. 

 

Suddenly, he flicked on the turn signal and pulled off the highway at the impending exit. Rey perked up in her seat at the sudden acceleration. She glanced around at the unfamiliar area. 

 

“Where are we going?”

 

“Small detour.”

 

⟵ ♡ ⟶

 

The car idled. Rey dwindled with her thumbs. She tried to make sense of the familiar, yet arbitrary, location. According to the dashboard, the time was just past midnight by now.  

 

The streets of Capitol Hill were asleep and only golden-hued lamps illuminated the blocks. 

 

“This is a loading zone.”

 

“We won’t be towed.”

 

“Why are we here? It’s closed.” 

 

“I have my ways.”

 

Rey could have sworn she saw the reflection of a wink in the rearview mirror. Her eyes followed Ben as he circled the front of the Tahoe to the sidewalk. He pulled her door open. 

 

At this point, he knew better than to take her hand. 

 

Rey slid from her seat. 

 

Concrete columns lined the forefront of the building. A Goddess herself plucked the structure from a Roman street and decided to plant it in the middle of Washington. 

 

His hands tucked in his pockets, he approached the entrance. She was certain it was locked. Yet, she found her feet catalyzed to follow his in his footsteps. 

 

“Do you know where we are?”

 

She nodded, knowing he wasn’t glancing in her direction. Instead, he was quickening his step to the security guard that awaited at the gate. They greeted one another like old friends. 

 

Rey watched from afar as they seemed to discuss and mingle. 

 

“Come on in,” the guard gestured his head past his body. 

 

Outside and in, the layout was enthralling to consume. A bit eerie afterhours, the silence of the museum’s confines echoed even their whispers. 

 

Rey struggled to keep up, taking three shimmies to equal Ben’s single step. 

 

“How do you know him?” 

 

“We trained together at camp. He was discharged for injury.”

 

“Oh,” she snuck a glance back at the guard. 

 

The man continued to stand by the entrance. He played on his cell phone and acted unconcerned about the two strangers he allowed into the building. 

 

Concurrently, they froze at the gated threshold. Chins high, their eyes scored from the marbled flooring, to the painted canvases and the high ceilings. The National Archives displayed key documents and legislation from American history. 

 

“Why did you take me here?” 

 

Her feet spun three sixty as she took in the entirety of the circular room. 

 

Rey settled with facing Ben directly. His Adam’s apple bounced in his throat with a swallow as he meandered towards her. It allowed a moment to take him in. He was Agent Solo, except for his demeanor and the name he wordlessly granted permission to be called. 

 

It was ephemeral. The urge to take his hand, just now. 

 

Instead, he past by and Rey caught a swift gust of his cologne. It beckoned her eyes closed in a slow blink. She ushered behind him, taking the same steps he did. 

 

Rey couldn’t understand why she trusted Agent Solo with not just her life, but her heart. 

 

He was probably the only person she’d storm the capital with. Together, in the early hours, they could tango down Pennsylvania Avenue and break the windows of bulletproof cars. 

 

She halted to a stop.  _ “Oh.” _

 

Ben nodded, stuffing his hands further into his front pockets. 

 

“Have you ever read the full transcript?”

 

“No, I haven’t.”

 

“It’s a bit hard on the vocabulary, in my opinion.”

 

“I can only imagine.”

 

“However, it is inspirational for enterprising people.”

 

“I’d say.”

 

Together, they stood side-by-side in front of the exhibit. It was a holy matrimony to the liberty.

 

The glass was illuminated by a glow of vanity lights. The thickness of the glass deterred their ability to touch the document, but just seeing it was enough for the sincerity. 

 

Rey read the cursive lettering. 

 

_ “We hold these truths to be self-evident, that all men are created equal, that they are endowed by their Creator with certain unalienable Rights, that among these are Life, Liberty and—” _

 

Ben interrupted, joining her reading. “—the Pursuit of Happiness.”

 

He almost smiled. 

 

“Do you know why I brought you here?”

 

“Yes.”

 

Their eyes met for a second too long. 

 

She could write college essays that left a professor speechless. She could write lover letters that sailed the widest oceans. She could write poetry that left a last line with too many questions. 

 

Somehow, for a moment, the country had come together to defeat a common injustice. Any child in an elementary classroom knew about it. It was compelling what could be accomplished when you put the excuses aside and kindled the motivation instead. 

 

In the end, The Declaration of Independence was just another piece of paper.

 

Suddenly, Rey started to guffaw. She grasped at her side, letting the tears prickle in her ducts. 

 

“What?” Ben inquired. 

 

_ Was the lack of sleep getting to her? The stress? Was she going absolutely mad?  _

 

“I walked in on Finn,” she giggled.  _ “With Poe.” _

 

His face flared but a smile started to crack. “Did they notice?”

 

“No. I ran.”

 

“Well,” Ben stifled a reddening smile. “I’m sure Finn will tell you when he’s ready.”

 

They started together, ambling much slower than before. Almost slow enough to decode their lack of urgency to leave one another’s company. 

 

In passing of the security guard that granted them access, Ben slipped some money through their handshake.

“What would my father say if he knew you were encouraging me?” Rey teased.

 

“Let’s just keep it between us.”

 

She froze on the steps. 

 

Although he was a few below, their heights matched perfectly. 

 

“Another secret? We seem to have a lot of those.”

 

The moon was full. 

 

“Another secret,” Ben accepted. “Don’t lose my trust.”

 

“Don’t lose mine.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Your comments are like caffeine! I survive off of them.


	8. The Dragon

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> a couple rebel top-gun pilots flying with nowhere to be

**Chapter Eight**

The Dragon

⟵♡⟶

 

Agent Solo was content with how smooth the day was going.

 

When he had woken that morning, he expected the absolute worst. The nerves started to rally when the alarm clock buzzed. Then it grew in his gut as he brushed his teeth and combed his hair. It boiled up further at breakfast, when he ran to a local coffee shop to buy coffee and muffins for the crew.

 

Life here was a lot quieter than Washington. Without the background noise of traffic, military helicopters and tourist buses, the unsettling atmosphere only furthered his dwindling tension. The tectonic plates continued to scrape and slather beneath him.

 

As the head of the First Daughter’s security, he was personally responsible for any blunders.

 

Of course, he crossed his T’s and dotted his I’s.

 

He ensured every student would be harmless company. Those fortuitous enough to be granted a pass had been RSVP’d to the event for a few days now. Enough time for Ben to personally screen and run background checks with his colleagues at the bureau.

 

If Ben wanted to, he could name the personal information of any person that occupied the auditorium, from their social security number to the name of their family dog.

 

There could have been security breaches.

 

There could have been demonstrations.

 

There could have been negative feedback from the media.

 

Instead, the maturity and poise of the day subsided his anxiety as it progressed.  

 

As promised, volunteers had helped organize the lecture and a professor monitored the conversation. The discussion was open and educational. Sometimes it was light, other times it grew heavy.

 

The auditorium was packed with students that majored in criminal justice or political science. They perked in their seats and steadily took notes. Each student was given the opportunity to contribute to the conversation, ask questions, or even answer some with their own experiences and knowledge.

 

“I have a question for Poe.”

 

The student sat in the front row, her Macbook open on the lap desk. She spoke confidently into a microphone that a volunteer held beneath her chin.

 

“Go for it,” Poe responded into his own from the stage.

 

He sat on a stool, adjacent to Finn and Rey.

 

_Rey._

 

_Who looked absolutely precious on this day._

 

Her hair was weaved into a single braid that wrapped over a shoulder. She was wearing a Dagobah University tee with ripped, light-washed jeans. She looked casual and like any other student that occupied the local java cafe or the campus library.

 

It had been Amilyn’s idea for her to wear the school’s colors.

 

_“It will make her look pococurante. The students will relate to her more.”_

 

Stairs escalated from her and ran along the rows of seats, to the top—where Ben stood and watched.

 

She had both hands wrapped around the shaft of her latte. Even a thousand miles away from home, he still tended to his habit of delivering coffee every single morning. Her microphone sat, untouched, in her lap. She listened, mostly.

 

“I was curious what we could do on campus to help?”

 

Poe smiled at the question. It was the perfect wrap-up on the discussion.

 

Dagobah University was located in Louisiana.

 

The campus was modest, sitting on the purlieu of a swamp. Located in the Bible Belt of the United States, it was deeply rooted in conventional disposition and conservation rhetoric.

 

President Kenobi and The First Lady were only a few miles away. With voter support decaying in this part of the country, it was essential for them to be present and listen.

 

Meanwhile, the First Daughter was working diligently to rally support from the kids her age.

 

It was brilliant. Ben had to give it to her.

 

“The single most important thing you can do is vote,” Poe advised. He projected his voice throughout the auditorium. “Students can become swamped with their bubble of academics. It is important to remind them of the world outside the classroom— _especially considering students are the future_ —the agenda of the forthcoming should be critical. I would recommend hosting a voter registration drive at your university.”

 

“Is it too late to register for November’s election?”

 

“Absolutely not,” Poe responded. “I believe Louisiana allows residents to register online.”

 

“You can,” Rey chimned in.

 

A few heads went her way and she smiled.

 

⟵♡⟶

 

After the discussion, everyone lingered and gathered in circles to further discuss. Some conversations were on the topic of politics, while others snuck off to the world of sports or entertainment.

 

They circled Rey as she boasted about her eighteenth birthday party and the star-studded guest list. Of course, the students were already well aware. It made national headlines when a line of limousines pulled into the gates of The White House.

 

The group all swooned. Rey melted into the confidence like a grilled cheese.

 

“What are you guys doing later?” One of the students suddenly asked.

 

Collectively, Poe, Finn and Rey shrugged their shoulders.

 

“If you guys aren’t busy tonight...” The voice came from the President of the Political Science club at their campus. He kept his voice low. “We’re having a party tonight. You’re definitely invited.”

 

“A party?” Rey repeated.

 

Her eyes reached through the congested room and somehow, miraculously, landed on Ben’s. His attention was locked on her. She felt her cheeks flare at the nonsense that he could somehow, hear their conversation.

 

Instead, he smiled.

 

“I’m not sure,” Poe admitted.

 

“Our hotel is nearby, though.”

 

Rey returned a grin. “We’ll figure it out.”

 

⟵♡⟶

 

“I just think you deserve the night off. We are exhausted from today and have that flight in the morning. Best just to lay low, ya feel?”

 

Ben crossed his arms.

 

 _This wasn’t suspicious,_ he thought.

 

He raised his chin, eyeing the other culprits in the room. Finn smiled innocently and Poe remained silent. They shared her king-sized bed, flipping through the television channels and stuffed their hands in buttered popcorn.

 

“Why are you acting like this?” He inquired.

 

“Like what?”

 

 _Shit._ Rey smiled. _He’s skeptical._

 

 _She’s a filthy liar._ Ben smiled back.

 

“I’m in the room nextdoor. I will be able to hear and _smell_ you.”

 

“Nonsense, get some rest. Big day tomorrow.”

 

Her words were practically pushing him from the threshold. He placed an arm on the frame, towering her. She refused to coil and instead kept the same leery grin painted on her cheeks.

 

Silence.

 

He stared.

 

Rey blinked back.

 

Finn and Poe proceeded to display their award-winning act in the background.

  

 

 

> _“Another secret,” Ben accepted. “Don’t lose my trust.”_
> 
> _“Don’t lose mine.”_

 

“All right,” he trailed. “Call me if you need me.”

 

⟵♡⟶

 

It was a sixth sense.

 

A gut feeling, if you will.

 

The clairvoyance that grew in the war overseas and in the line of duty beneath the President of the United States. It was Ben’s acute ability to sniff bullshit out.

 

Call it paranoia, sure.

 

That same paranoia came in handy in Belfast.

 

It was what saved the president’s life when a knife-wielding pedestrian shoved into the crowd as a masked-politician. It was what stopped, _possibly_ , the biggest alternating event in history. It was what allowed any other human to step from the tarmac and collapse into the arms of his wife and daughter—unharmed.

 

He paused the treadmill and came to an ambling stop. In the reflection of the mirror, his forehead leaked sweat down the bridge of his nose and onto the front of his sleeveless tee.

 

Ben wanted to believe Rey but speculation and intuition desired otherwise.

 

His step through the hotel lobby was quicker, his impatience in the leisurely elevator grew with each _ding_ of a passing floor, and his voice in the head proved itself sane.

 

“How are they?” Breathlessly, he joined the security guard stationed outside Rey’s hotel room.

 

“Quiet,” the guard responded with a shrug. He in the middle of a level in Temple Run.

 

Ben yanked a spare key from the front pocket in his meshed-workout shorts. The other guard exited from the application immediately, disturbed at his sudden anger.

 

Ben shoved the door open.

 

Her hotel room was the penthouse suite and had many rooms. He walked through each one, one hand on his hip and the other pushing the doors quietly open.

 

The noise of a movie escaped from the television’s speakers.

 

They lights were on in every room.

 

The popcorn remained untouched.

 

In the back accommodation, the balcony doors were wide open. They released out onto a shared patio with Finn and Poe’s own chambers. A gust of wind hit Ben’s sweaty face.

 

He turned, dumbstruck.

 

On the bedside table, Rey’s cell phone and the tracker concealed inside, sat.

 

“Fuck me,” he cursed as he tugged his own phone out and hustled back into the hallway.

 

⟵♡⟶

 

“I need a chopper in the air,” he shouted into his bluetooth.

 

On the road, the Tahoe skid perfectly across four lanes and straightened out. The wheel danced beneath his palms as he slammed on the pedal, hitting almost eighty on the country roads.

 

“ _I don’t give a fuck_ if you aren’t sanctioned for liftoff,” he slammed on his brakes while simultaneously pulling the wheel. The car swerved through a red-light and onto the road perpendicular. “Keep it above the campus. It’s a friday night and they’re probably at a party.”

 

In the bordering neighborhoods, students flooded the streets. The seemingly quiet roads were zoetic; vivacious with spirits that slurred along to top hits and mooched into the basements of fraternities.

 

His eyes feverishly scanned the passing houses and their addresses. The speed limit was probably twenty-five and he was well over it.

 

The thing was, if you decided to hang out with the President’s daughter, you’re were consenting to a background check from the moment you plopped into the arms of a doctor.

 

That included, the address of your residency for your organization’s parties.

 

Ben slammed on the brake.

 

The car’s tires screeched and painted the pavement in thick, black prints.

 

 _24 Sluis Drive._ The residency of Kanan Jarrus, the President of the Dagobah Political Science club.

 

Antebellum architecture was potent in the south. You couldn’t escape it. Huge pillars and a porch that ran along the entire exterior of the house; all painted white. Ben’s fist curled as he stomped up the driveway, which was heavily decorated in geometrical shrubbing.  

 

The house would be beautiful if it wasn’t for the thumping music rattling his chest and the group of barefoot, drunken girls that giggled as they passed him.

 

Inside, was no better.

 

The party was a plethora of underage drinking and shared germs. Ben was in absolute horror. A nightmare walked right out of his sleep and onto the street. Tight hallways were glutted with dancing students and the floor was covered in a slick of amber-slime. The entire floor reeked of smoke and booze.

 

It wasn’t difficult to find Rey.

 

He could hear her first. She was chanting Finn’s name. Even through the awful music, he could place it in the back sitting room.

 

Finn was shotgunning a beer. At the sight of Agent Solo, he choked the remaining onto the floor. The crowd depleted as he gasped for air.

 

“Are you fucking _KIDDING ME_.”

 

Everything stopped.

 

Rey’s eyes widened at Poe. “Is he behind me right now?”

 

He didn’t respond. Instead, he receded as far away as he could.

 

Before Rey could properly react, the lit joint in her hand was snatched from her grasp. She pivoted on her feet in a quick turn from the finger that grasped her belt-loop. Dizzy from consumption in a short interval, she tried to regain her balance.

 

A few kids eyed the much-taller student, who decided to wear recreation gear to the party.

 

“Agent Solo,” Finn coughed. “It was my idea to come.”

 

“Save it.”

 

There was no dancing around it or changing the subject.

 

Rey bunglingly smiled. “Hiiiiiiiiiiiii.”

 

Ben’s face contorted at the stench of her breath.

 

“I made new friends,” she nodded towards the lingering crowd. Some gestured back while others were busy sharing a Juul.

 

“That is great. They seem great.”

 

“We’re about to play beer-pong. Want in?”

 

The voice came from Kanan.

 

Ben looked him up and down.

 

If he wanted— _absolutely, doubtlessly wanted to_ —Ben could drop him from a Boeing C-17 over international waters with no working parachute.

 

He forced a smile. “I’m good.”

 

The music changed and a few students clamored at the familiar notes.

 

“I love this song,” Rey slurred.

 

Suddenly too big for the ceiling and too large for the bodies, Ben coiled into himself. He watched Finn and Poe fill their red solo cups on the table while Rey jumped to the beat of the song.

 

 _I am way too old for this,_ he thought.

 

Another eighties song.

 

What was with college students and power ballads from the eighties?

 

Without warning, Rey wrapped her fingers around his wrist and pulled him into her gravity.

 

“No.”

 

“Yes.”

 

“No.”

 

“Please?”

 

“Rey.”

 

She danced with herself but he allowed it.

 

“Oooooooo heaven is a place on Earth,” Rey sang, off-key.

 

“Loosen up, Agent Solo.” Poe threw a pingpong and it missed the target. “We’re just having fun.”

 

“I don’t have an issue with you having fun. I would just, really— **REALLY** —love it if you started to inform me about the fun.”

 

Finn took his turn throwing the small, plastic ball. “You’re right. We’ll tell you next time.”

 

He hate to admit it, but they were kids. They behaved during the day and now it was time to be young. Of course, he’d prefer if they just told him about their antics. He thought he made that clear.

 

Ben would never say it aloud, but he had absolutely no issue with them partying.

 

They had fun at the eighties club downtown. This could have been no different.

 

Was he not cool enough for their college friends?

 

“Keep this up and there won’t be—” his voice suddenly strained.

 

Rey was dancing way too close to him. She was actually starting to brush _against_ him. Incapable of properly reacting, Ben tried to stray into the crowd. With aid from the mixed brew, Rey was encumbered and begun to squander her balance.

 

He scooped, snaking an arm beneath her knees and easily hoisted her into a bridal carry.

 

“Bedtime.”

 

Rey griped yet her body language did otherwise. She locked her ankles together and eased into his arms.

 

“Finn? Poe?” Ben inquired.

 

Concurrently, they glanced up from the middle of their match. They seemed to be beating the other team in beer pong at the moment, the opposing side missing more than half of heir red cups on the table.

 

“We’ll catch up later.”

 

“Should I call for a charter?”

 

“Nah,” Poe gestured with his hand.

 

“The hotel is too far to walk.”

 

“We’ll call for a Lyft.”

 

Before Ben could contend or argue otherwise, the room exploded with shouts.

 

At that moment, Finn raised his hand. In a free-throw, the ping pong soared over the table like a basketball before rolling around the rim of a red cup. The amber-alcohol splattered the already-drenched tabletop with impact.

 

As if his confidence was already super-sonic, he faked a swipe over his shoulders and high-fived the surrounding students.

 

Ben tucked his chin, watching Rey’s head lull in his arms. It wasn’t particularly his responsibility to watch over the First Daughter’s friends, just her. He’ll call for a secondary agent, regardless. Even if it meant just keeping an eye on them.

 

He’d sleep better knowing her friends were safe too.

 

He carried Rey in his arms, pushing through the bodies of plastered students. He moved in the direction that he entered in, trying to find his way out from hell-on-earth.

 

“I hope it was worth it.”

 

Out front, the grass was slick from a running sprinkler system.

 

“Helicopter,” she grumbled, pointing at the sky.

 

“Yup. Helicopter.”

 

Rey smiled, her eyes closed.

 

“If I get fired, I hope you’re stuck with an agent that wouldn’t let you piss without him knowing.”

 

Ben mumbled to himself, knowing the music was still far too loud and Rey was far too plastered to actively listen or adduce to his tangent.

 

“Agent Solo?” Rey slurred.

 

He redressed their position. He had no desire to launder in water.

 

“Beeeeeeeen,” she sung. “Why are you so stern?”

 

The tone matched her impish expressions.

 

“I’m not stern?”

 

His foiling demeanor said otherwise.

 

_“Yuhuh.”_

 

_“Nuhuh.”_

 

_“Uh, yuhuh.”_

 

“You’re drunk.”

 

“Noooooo,” she shook her head a bit too much and the stars turned to milky-way clouds.

 

“If you think I’m stern now,” he stepped from the slippery grass onto the cobbled driveway. “You should have seen me when I worked directly beneath your father.”

 

“Did my dad like you?”

 

“I thought so. Then he gave me this job.”

 

“Hey,” she hit his chest with a closed fist. “I’m not that bad.”

 

“Oh, yeah? Then why am I carrying you out of a ethanol-deluged party?”

 

The snarky retort beckoned Rey to kick her feet playfully and make her enjoyment of the hitchhike apparent.

 

Along the curbside, the Tahoe continued to idle. Ben reached for the handle while attempting to keep Rey still with his other arm.

 

“Ben,” her voice strummed. “Do you have a girlfriend?”

 

“I’d be a pretty shitty boyfriend if I had a relationship with this job.”

 

He was having a difficult time juggling between holding her and opening the heavy door.

 

“Why’s that?”

 

“I spend every waking moment with you.”

 

Rey hummed. Her head soothed into his chest.

 

He tugged on the handle yet it was not enough to grow agape. On his following attempts, he moved quicker and employed the help of his legs as well.

 

“Rey, hold on.”

 

She hummed.

 

“Wrap your arms around my neck.”

 

Eyelids closing, she eased slowly into a nodding ebb. With her cheek resting against his chest and her fingers laced behind his neck, the final attempt was effortless.  

 

Even with the door wide enough for her to slide into the seat, she refused to adhere to a silent capability of letting go and climbing in. Instead, she kept her arms firmly wrapped.

 

“Watch your head,” he mumbled.

 

He hoisted her into the backseat, lying her flat on the cushioned leather.

 

Rey refused to let go.

 

With her arms still behind her neck, she pulled him dangerously close.

 

Before Ben could fully collapse, he pressed his palm against the window above their heads. Ben struggled to allow his feet to find the ground and regain his balance. The door behind them remained open and he could only imagine how awful this looked to a passerby.

 

It probably looked like a resignation letter signed by the President.

 

“Rey, let go.”

 

“You smell good.”

 

“And you smell like vodka.”

 

His hair fell onto his face.

 

With an uppercut huff, he tried to blow his bangs out of his eyes. Instead, it fell even more in a disarray across his forehead. It beckoned a drunken giggle from Rey, who released a hand to tuck the errant strands behind an ear.

 

The apex of her fingertip was cool. Despite the summer that kept the nights of Southern America warm, her touch sent uninvited shivers elsewhere.

 

She wasn’t even looking at him. Instead, her eyes were on his lips.

 

The glimmer of a slight lean and he was validated.

 

“Come on, you have a flight in the morning.”

 

Rey allowed him to lift away. The absence of his ardor sent her into a small recoil.

 

She had to recalibrate.

 

Despite the double-vision and the burn of booze in her throat, his apprehension was evident.

 

As he rounded the front of the vehicle, the headlights set him aglow. He was in a silent war with himself, trembling fingers fixing his hair and pulling his shirt straight.

 

Ben seemed to observe the dimly-lit street to ensure no one was lurking before climbing in.

 

There was a fleeting hesitation as his hand clutched the gear shift.

 

He was doing _that thing_ with his lips.

 

“Ben?”

 

In the reflection of the rearview mirror, he brought his eyes to meet her own.

 

“I’m hungry.”

 

⟵♡⟶

 

The Waffle House was bustling despite the time being well after midnight. Drunk students shared the booths, questionable truckers occupied the barstools and an older gentleman sat alone in the corner.

 

Ben kept mental notes of every character in the vicinity. He esteemed the clothing they wore, their distinctive features and tattoos or piercings—if they had any.

 

Across their own shared booth, Rey stabbed her chocolate, peanut-butter chip waffle. 

 

Her hair was stuffed beneath a discarded hat he found in the trunk of the Tahoe. It was best if they didn’t turn heads at a twenty-four hour diner in middle-of-nowhere Louisiana.

 

“Do you want some?” Rey lifted her fork towards him. The syrup drizzled onto the tabletop between them.

 

“I’m fine,” he eyed the mess before yanking napkins out of the difficult dispenser.

 

She shrugged, stuffing her cheeks with the fluff of mixed fluff, sugar, and eggs.

 

“Can I ask you something?” Ben kept his arms folded in front of him.

 

Rey hummed, chewing at her midnight breakfast.

 

He took a moment to devour her innocence. Even if she was sobering up, she saw no issue with her actions or behavior. A part of him twitched at the thought of her running off, yet again. It was what cost the last agent their job and what he desperately tried to avoid with the tracking device in her cell phone.

 

Regardless, he had to admit—Rey was safe with her friends and the party was full of familiar faces from the lecture.

 

She was in good company.

 

“Did you have fun?” He asked.

 

“It was cool,” Rey swallowed. “I like this school.”

 

“Would you want to apply here?”

 

“Too far from the city.”

 

Ben nodded. “There will be parties on any campus.”

 

“I want to pick a school with good academics, not just fulfilling nightlife.”

 

He half-smiled. This was a lot better than arguing over potential danger.

 

Afterall, if Rey went to a university, would she really need security following her every move? Sitting in her classes? Chaperoning her parties? Running background checks on her roommates and the frat boys she texted?

 

The smile melted.

 

“If your father wins a re-election, I reckon I’ll be forced to babysit you at school.”

 

“And if he doesn’t win, you’ll be an agent for Snoke and I’ll be rushing a sorority.”

 

His fastened expression was a frown now.

 

“Your dad will win.”

 

“What makes you say that?”

 

“It’s difficult to beat a sitting president.”

 

“It’s happened before,” she sung.

 

“You may disagree with a few opinions, but he still did well. Your dad has been the first bipartisan and transparent president we’ve had.”

 

“There is always room for improvement.”

 

“Which is why he will be re-elected. He passed Wall Street reform, signed a commitment for climate change, supported same-sex marriages and advocated for immigration. People like him.”

 

 _Some points have been made,_ Rey thought.

 

“Did you vote for my dad?”

 

Ben faltered. Rey leaned across the table, her eyebrow raised.

 

“I was overseas.”

 

“Absentee ballot?” Rey retorted.

 

“I was not paying attention to politics back home. I was angry and busy running in the desert of Kuwait to worry about which man was going to sit on the throne.”

 

She covered her mouth, silencing a burp. Her eyes widened at the familiar taste of booze.

 

 _“Please,”_ he begged. “Do not puke in this Waffle House right now.”

 

Rey swallowed with a smile. She carried on, unbothered.

 

“Your vote is your voice.”

 

“You sound like your father.”

 

Miffed with his answer but still too tipsy to argue it, she sunk back into her shabby cushion. With each swallow, her answers weren’t as slurred. She was starting to level.

 

“Also,” Ben started to ease up. “The reporters are saying good things about today’s appearance. They think the college tour is shaping up perfectly. They love you.”

 

Rey crooned. She slid her empty plate to the edge of the table.

 

Silence between them was welcoming, almost comforting. It was not awkward or tense.

 

For a moment, Ben felt as if he drifted above their body. He was on a casual late-night date with a pretty girl, sitting in a random neon-lit diner in the swamps.

 

“Why aren’t you mad at me?” Rey blurted.

 

“Oh, I am.”

 

“You don’t seem that mad.”

 

“We can talk about it in the morning when you’re sober.”

 

“Are you going to tell Amilyn?” She pouted. “My dad?”

 

Ben sighed. _Yet another secret._

 

“I’ll make it up to you,” Rey curled her bottom lip further. She batted her eyelashes. She knew what she was doing.

 

Ben stifled his chuckle. Perfectly timed, the waitress returned to their table and he pulled the wallet from his back-pocket before Rey could protest.

 

“Thank you,” she mumbled.

 

“Just please do not get me fired and we can keep as many secrets as your heart desires.”

 

“Trust me,” she rested her cheek in her palm. “You’re the only agent I like.”

 

Beneath the fluorescent lights that flickered, he could better detail her. She was a black-and-white picture, waiting to be colored in.

 

She was a liability, way too much for her own good. 

 

Raindrops started to leak down the fogged window. 

 

His voice was growing softer. His hesitation lasted shorter. The only thing that remained was the lingering question of his sanity.

 

Was it a one-way street? Was he prepared for the chaos of intertwined feelings and the eventual fumble of them? 

 

Ben stared at her. 

 

Her. Rey.

 

Rey?

 

He liked the way his teeth nearly kissed when he said her name. 

 

Rey. 

 

The fourteen-year-old girl forced to leave her childhood home and move into The White House. The fifteen-year-old brat that road her bike down the hallway and scavenged for bugs in the South Lawn. The sixteen-year-old princess that demanded for more freedom and to go on dates like her classmates. The seventeen-year-old daughter that sobbed on the runway of an Irish airstrip and demanded answers. 

 

The eighteen-year-old dragon that suddenly embodied her parent's legacy while paving her own.  

 

He was fucking falling for the President's daughter. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)


	9. Defying Gravity

**Chapter Nine**

Defying Gravity

⟵♡⟶

 

**\- The White House | 5:00 AM -**

**@TheWhiteHouse:** The First Daughter, Rey Kenobi, visited Dagobah University yesterday to listen to issues imperative to students.

 

**\- Dagobah Daily Student Paper | 5:02 AM -**

**@DagobahDaily:** @TheWhiteHouse We sent a student reporter to cover this event for our school paper. Our website features an article and some photos. -Y

 

**\- Cad Bane | 5:32 AM -**

**@bountybane:** @DagobahDaily @TheWhiteHouse: Curious to know if the president made an appearance? Nice reporting, btw.

 

**\- Dagobah Daily Student Paper | 5:34 AM -**

**@DagobahDaily:** @TheWhiteHouse @bountybane: Rey was the only Kenobi present. She did a good job, though. -Y

 

**\- Asajj Ventress | 5:56 AM -**

**@dathomiriandigs:** @DagobahDaily @TheWhiteHouse: Who are the other two in the photos?

 

**\- Dagobah Daily Student Paper | 6:02 AM -**

**@DagobahDaily:** @TheWhiteHouse @dathomiriandigs: Activist Poe Dameron (@DamnRebel) and Jay Finnerty (@FN2187), Rey’s closest friend. -Y

 

**\- Kenobi Updates | 6:14 AM -**

**@KUWTK:** @DagobahDaily: omg more photos of Rey with that swole sexy security guard

 

**\- Rey Daily | 6:18 AM -**

**@ReyDay:** @KUWTK @DagobahDaily: it’s what my bitch deserves

 

**\- Kenobi Updates | 6:22 AM -**

**@KUWTK:** @ReyDay @DagobahDaily: i really hope he lasts longer than the last one

 

**Tweet liked by Finn (@FN2187) | 6:51 AM**

 

**\- Rey Daily | 6:52 AM -**

**@ReyDay:** OMG AKSDLFJIW

 

⟵♡⟶

 

“You need to see this,” Finn slid his phone over their shared table.

 

They were consuming the state room of Air Force One, a specialty Boeing 747-8 that was produced specifically for the President’s use while in the sky. Distantly, the engine hummed as the plane soared over what Rey assumed to be the Appalachian Mountains. Their destination was an Air Force Base somewhere in West Virginia.

 

 _“Swole sexy security guard?”_ She read aloud.

 

The crease of her confusion sent an excruciating reminder of her headache. She groaned, rubbing her temples.

 

Finn stifled laughter. He took his phone back, casually liking the tweets within the exchange.

 

“I didn’t realize you had so many fan accounts,” Poe admitted as he swiped through his own account’s feed. “There are, like, hundreds.”

 

“I swear it was ever since I attended the Met Gala,” Rey presumed.

 

“You should use this, Rey.”

 

Ideally, it was best for the kids of politicians to remain out of the spotlight. Family members were seen as weaknesses that did not contend well to a public sphere. There was always room for blunders and bad publicity. Rey was no stranger to that.

 

Yet, somewhere along the line of drunken arguments, spending tax dollars on international vacations and questionable moral behavior, she had gotten _something right_.

 

“They are in love with an image,” she sipped her orange juice that downed yet another pill for the pain. “They have no idea who I really am.”

 

“A social media presence could give you the opportunity to do that.”

 

She churned on the thought.

 

When Rey was sixteen, she was caught owning a secret account on Instagram. The feed was set to private and mostly full of photos from her travels, her delicious meals and her nights out with friends. The computer programmers found the account information while hacking her iCloud. It made national headlines as a security breach.

 

Yet, Rey was just a kid.

 

She had images of sprinkle-coated gelato, not the nuclear launch codes.

 

The issue was the First Daughter could not reflect the youthful and questionable demeanor of every other sixteen year old in America. Instead, she had to seem legitimate and poise.

 

Now at eighteen, an ability to speak directly to the citizens _could be_ beneficial.

 

She settled. “I’ll think about it.”

 

“In my opinion,” Poe continued. “When someone is easy to connect with, they seem more transparent and candid.”

 

“That’s a good thing?” Rey inquired.

 

The rising sun from the east beckoned her to seal the window shade. A hangover did not romantically dwell on the brightness of a star.

 

“Let me make my minor in sociology useful and educate the President’s daughter.”

 

Rey raised an eyebrow at that.

 

“Definitions mean everything.”

 

“What does a presence on social media have to do with a dictionary?”

 

Poe snapped his fingers. “Symbolic interactionism.”

 

“Symbolic what?” Finn echoed.

 

“Symbolic interactionism,” Poe repeated once more. “The emphasis on how the existence of mind and self emerges from the use of symbols and their definitions.”

 

“I’m not following,” Rey responded. She was way too tired and way too nauseas for this.

 

“If you asked me a month ago my opinion on Rey Kenobi, I would have said that she was a _voiceless pothead sitting on a throne carved from the backs of a minimum wage workforce_.”

 

Rey gasped.

 

“But,” Poe interjected. “My definition has changed now. I see Rey Kenobi as a friend, as a spit of fire, if you would. Conflict on definitions is the forefront to politics and therefore, social problems emerge because everyone has different definitions for these behaviors.”

 

Her facial expression must have conveyed the confusion. Her brain was flatlining.

 

“You smoke pot, yes?”

 

“Uh,” she eyed the occupants of the room before hushly responding. “Sure.”

 

“Where did you learn this behavior?”

 

“I dunno,” Rey shrugged. “Friends? Parties?”

 

“Exactly,” Poe gestured with his hands. “Historically, marijuana has been shaped by society as a _no-no._ Yet, your definition valued the benefits. As that viewpoint becomes more widespread, the legislation will amend and the perspective will become more accepting of recreational use.”

 

“So,” Rey garnered her thoughts together. “The way something is presented can persuade a desired outcome?”

 

“Exactly.”

 

Finn watched the two exchange. They were starting to consume the conversation, unaware of Agent Solo joining the cabin they occupied. He stood by the refreshment counter, getting himself a cup of black coffee.

 

“Take the functionalist theory. Inherently, it believes that society works as a system. All the parts have to work in harmony to sustain balance for the whole. When there’s dysfunction, there is an allowance for negative consequences.”

 

“An anomie,” Rey reiterated.

 

“Normlessness, precisely. Now you’re thinking like a graduate student.”

 

“During an anomie, society is prone to social problems.” Her words practically read from her senior sociology textbook. _I guess private school actually paid off,_ she thought. Suddenly excited for the idea of college again. 

 

“Choose a current, polarized political issue. Anything.”

 

“Homelessness,” Finn chimned in.

 

“Perfect,” Poe readjusted in his seat to include Finn into their banter. “Homelessness sucks, right? Well, it’s beneficial to at least one party, or else it would cease to exist.”

 

“Who benefits from homelessness?” Finn questioned.

 

“Well, functionally it supports religious organizations, social service agencies, and community groups. Someone is being paid to run a homeless shelter, yes? Obviously homelessness is a dysfunction. It shouldn’t exist. Yet, there is a reason why it does.”

 

The pressurized air seemed to go thin. Rey and Finn eyed one another as they tried to piece together where Poe was heading in the explanation.

 

“Someone, somewhere is benefiting,” he added.

 

Rey bit her tongue.

 

“Try this. The second amendment? List some dysfunctions.”

 

“Easy,” Rey shrugged. “Lack of universal background checks, high capacity magazines, trafficking, violence.”

 

“Okay, now list some functions.”

 

“Uh,” she said aloud.

 

Across the table, beside Poe, Finn scratched his forehead.

 

“Protection, hunting, manufacturing, convention, and range employment,” Poe deadpanned. “Power to the people.”

 

Rey was definitely not dizzy enough to comprehend Poe Dameron, activist and leader of a gun-control demonstration, to be listing off the positives of the second amendment. She settled on remaining silent.

 

“They know people die. It is merely a side effect. Yet _someone, somewhere_ is benefiting and therefore the dysfunctional structure will continue to be functional and exist in our society. That is why none of this is easy. There’s a lot involved.”

 

 _“Sooooo,”_ Rey tallied off the odds and evens. “We break the wheel?

 

“Easier said than done. You should know about the conflict perspective and who holds the power.”

 

“Who holds the power?”

 

“Our country is virtually stitched together by power structures. Going back to my original argument, we see social problems emerge in our political climate when conflict occurs between the blue and the red. The powerful always wins. You’re either the worker or the owner.”

 

“Well, take dystopian literature, right?” Rey stammered. “Can’t the less powerful rise up to remove the societal structure?”

 

“Now you’re sounding like a communist.”

 

Agent Solo choked on his coffee. Concurrently, they all turned their heads into his direction. He raised a hand while the other wiped a clothed napkin feverishly around his lips.

 

 _Was he listening the entire time?_ Rey silently questioned. _Was he impressed?_

 

_Why did she care if he was impressed by knowledge?_

 

Instead, she leaned across the table, mumbling. “Don’t say that so loudly.”  

 

“Listen, the biggest social problem is the system itself and the inequality it creates. Change will not happen overnight, especially in country as prideful as America.”

 

“Why?”

 

“The same reason your father took a ten million dollar donation and became the President of the United States…” he carefully decided on his words, not purposely setting off to offend Rey. “Someone powerful is always benefiting.”

 

She relaxed into the leather seat, gnawing at the words and allowing her own stomach acid to feed upon them such as live prey. She chewed harder on her bottom lip, holding the temptation of vomiting everywhere. There was a way to control the narrative that surrounded her life and that was to present it in a way she desired. No construed words in interviews with reporters, no photoshopped images making it to the front cover of tabloids. If Rey had a place to share her voice, she could redefine the frame of the legacy she was unavoidably tied to. 

 

She stared out the window. A squadron of Eagle jets flew alongside them.

 

“Miss Kenobi?”

 

She raised her chin towards the voice, one that belonged to an unfamiliar flight attendant.

 

“Your father has asked for you.”

 

⟵♡⟶

 

> _Dreaded by most, loved by some, Rey adored the winter._
> 
>  
> 
> _She was swindled in fuzzy blankets, layers of clothing and cashmere socks, yet the tip of her nose still shivered and sniffled in the tone of a rosy red._
> 
>  
> 
> _Her father, a gentle and sincere man, wrapped yet another article around her. This time it was his own flannel he had been wearing. Red looked so spirited on his daughter, the perfect reminder of what beauty could reside in his love for Satine._
> 
>  
> 
> _“I’m thinking about taking another step forward. Maybe running for a bigger office.”_
> 
>  
> 
> _“You can do it, daddy. I know you’ll win.”_
> 
>  
> 
> _Some teeth were missing. Her hair was shorter. She wore band-aids for fun._
> 
>  
> 
> _“We would have to move away from your school and friends. Would you be okay with that, little dove?”_
> 
>  
> 
> _“Only if I get to come with you and mommy,” she had teased._
> 
>  
> 
> _Her dad smiled. “You’ll be by my side every step of the way.”_
> 
>  
> 
> _Until you’re old enough to go out on your own, he thought, watching his favorite person in the world reel in a catch that tugged at her fishing pole._

 

“The reporters have spoken highly about Dagobah.”

 

His tone was surprisingly fresh despite the darkened flesh beneath his eyes. Decent sleep was a rare occasion for her father. Rey could always tell how serious the job had gotten depending on how much shut-eye he was getting.

 

One time he stayed awake for three days straight during a hostage situation at an international embassy. Rey was only fourteen but she could comprehend how serious it must’ve been. The job had yet to get to him. It was a cold shower from the honeymoon of winning. He was thrusted into a difficult situation and Rey didn’t blame him for the choices he had to make, for the sacrifices he had to deal with.

 

The makeshift room was the Oval Office in the sky. In the corner, Press Secretary Connix was gently swaying in her swivel chair. She had a stack of newspapers on her lap with highlighted marks and post-it notes.

 

Every single morning, the President was briefed on the current events from around the country and world. While he was campaigning for a re-election, he still had to tend to the daily activities of a sitting leader.

 

“Really?” Rey raised an eyebrow.

 

Ben had mentioned it at the Waffle House. She thought maybe he was just being cordial and keeping the conversation simple while she sobered up. She may have been plastered but she could still recall the driftwood scent of his cologne.

 

“In some of these papers, you made the front page.”

 

Connix smiled sweetly and handed over a copy of _The Coruscant Times_.

 

> _Rey Kenobi Shows Symptoms of Presidential Spirit._

 

She stared at herself. Printed in black-and-white, her smile was indisputably genuine. She was posing beside Finn and Poe with a group of the students crowded around them. Agent Solo even made the cut. With his ample and tall figure out of place in the sea of students, he seemed stressed.

 

Rey felt a smile twitch.

 

“They’re calling my daughter a future candidate, the scion of a legacy, the future this country can anticipate— _can you believe that?_ ” Her father clasped his arms over his chest. “It was welcomed news to wake up to. _Especially_ after receiving a notification that my helicopter fleet was circling college fraternity houses in the early hours.”

 

Her smile melted.

 

“When I spoke to Agent Solo, he was unphased. _‘No worries, Mr. President. I had it handled. Nothing happened. Everything was under control. It was a false alarm.’_ And seemingly enough, no one else on his security team seemed to be worried.”

 

He was bluffing. There was no way you could hide a secret from a man that powerful. Rey forfeited privacy and secrets from her parents when they were given international security clearance. Ben could have fought the truth as much as he wanted, but transmissions could be recorded, car routes could be traced through GPS, and witnesses could be paid to say whatever.

 

“We got invited to a party from the political science department. That’s all.”

 

“We?”

 

“Finn, Poe and I.”

 

 _“Aah, right, Finn,”_ Her father begun to understand. “I should know by now that if my daughter is getting into trouble, Finn is short on her heel.”

 

“It was my idea.”

 

“Did you invite Agent Solo? You two seem close.”

 

She faltered. _What the fuck do you say to that?_

 

“Did you all pour over a textbook and analyze a Kennedy speech?”

 

Rey remained silent.

 

“No one lit a joint? No one cracked open a handle? Played some of that awful noise you call music?”

 

Her eyes flickered at the ground. She was going to be sick. The taste of alcohol was begin to reside in her throat.

 

“You do realize,” he scooted his chair closer to his desk. “You’re only eighteen, right?”

 

“I am aware of my birthday.”

 

“Just checking. You seem to forget sometimes.”

 

Rey’s cheeks flustered. _“Dad.”_

 

In the same tone, he responded. _“Rey.”_

 

“I was with my friends. Everyone was having a blast.”

 

“Connix, could we have some privacy?”

 

“Of course,” she stood quickly from the seat. She had been actively looking for an excuse to leave the room since the banter had begun. Rey extended her arm, offering the paper back. Instead, Connix smiled once more as she slid by. “Keep it. It’ll be worth a lot of money if you run someday.”

 

Rey smiled stupidly at that.

 

The door shut quietly behind her.

 

“Just because I’m the President doesn’t mean I forfeit my responsibility as your father.”

 

“I know.”

 

“I just want you to be safe. If anything ever happened to you…”

 

Rey picked at her cuticles. Soon enough she’d run out of flesh to dig at. Her heart was starting to quicken in pace. Her breathing was becoming difficult.

 

“This is why I assigned Agent Solo to you. Please do not make his life hard.”

 

She nodded. Every time he said Agent Solo, she heard Ben.

 

“If we have to speak about this again, it won’t be face-to-face on Air Force One. It will be over the phone while you’re traveling back to Washington.”

 

“Dad,” she whined.

 

“Don’t. Your mother agrees with me.”

 

Rey hadn’t spoken to her mother since the restaurant disaster. She was far too busy visiting orphanages and youth shelters. They sucked at communicating, to put it simply. Even as a kid, Rey was more to the hip of her father than anything else.

 

And now he was threatening to pull the campaign out from under her. Even after the positive reviews and the flurry of excitement towards his eventual win.

 

“I understand,” she surrendered.

 

“Good. Now go buckle up. We are starting to descend.”

 

⟵♡⟶

 

The airstrip awaited their arrival, a flurry of vivacious patriots and flashing lights.

 

A barricade ran along the perimeter. Only the satellites of news vans could be seen above the crowd, a waving tide of hands and flags. Beside the settling airplane, the motorcade of blacked-out and bulletproof vehicles were idling and awaiting their occupants. On each tail, an American flag danced in the wind of West Virginia.

 

“Are you okay?”

 

Rey jumped, startled. She slammed the window shade closed and wiped her nose haphazardly.

 

“Apologies.”

 

“It’s okay,” she mumbled through a stiff throat.

 

“West Virginia has always been a tough state to win the heart of. You shouldn’t be discouraged if this stop doesn’t go as anticipated.”

 

Rey shrugged. She was sitting in a cushioned seat, her knees to her chest. She seemed to have been crying recently with bloodshot eyes and dahlia cheeks.

 

He pretended to swipe through his Apple Watch. Ben already knew the schedule of the day but found it would be comforting for her in the moment.

 

“You only have to smile and wave. Today you have no interviews, no catered dinners, or campaign stops.”

 

She seemed to soothe.

 

Ben eyed the occupants of the room. They were too busy gathering their personal baggage or having conversations on their phones. You never experienced the true meaning of _overwhelmed_ until the phone of a politician’s aide was turned back on from airplane mode.

 

“Rey,” he lowered his head from hitting the compartment, taking the chair across from her. Although he wasn’t positive what she was crestfallen about, he had an idea. “Your father is just frazzled. You shouldn’t take any discouragement to heart.”

 

“I need his support right now,” she sighed. “Now, more than ever.”

 

“He needs yours too. Instead of butting heads, you need to be leaning your backs against one another.”

 

Rey huffed. _Easier said than done._ There was too much pride and marginal constituents involved.

 

“I just wish I could go back and beg him not to run. We could still be living in our cottage in Vermont and he’d be helping me shop at Ikea right now for college.”

 

Their voices were hushed beneath the hum of an engine and the sound of bags being taken from a running conveyor belt.

 

Ben could tell his words only went so far. He wanted to reach over and hug her. Even if it was only for one time in his life.

 

“It isn’t too late to mend your relationship. You have both of your parents and they are incredibly grateful to have you as their daughter. Believe me, you wouldn’t want to lose your father.”

 

“Were you close with your dad?”

 

Ben swallowed. Hard. Enough for her eyes to trace his Adam’s apple above his collar.

 

“My father was never an easy person to get along with. There are only so many mistakes a person could make before you need to let go. Sometimes it is best to love someone from a distance.”

 

He could almost hear the vibrating plea of a Chicago number on his phone. The same one he cancelled and ignored, even this very morning.

 

“Why did you hate him?” Her eyes seemed watery but she didn’t wipe them.

 

“I didn’t hate him.”

 

Rey blinked a few times, her lashes soaking the tears up. She cleared her throat.

 

“Miss Kenobi.” Amilyn stood above her. Her eyes dodged between the two of them. “I apologize for interrupting.”

 

“Nonsense. I was just going over security measures with my agent.”

 

Ben caught onto her wavering expression and equally painted a deceiving smile.

 

Amilyn dismissed their exchange and held her notebook tighter to her chest. “You’re requested to the front of the plane. We think it would be best if you exited with your parents—to allow the media to get some family photos.”

 

“Of course,” Rey concurred. “That would be nice.”

 

She stood, keeping her eyes on Ben, who kept still beneath her. Their eyes remained locked for _far too long._ Enough for a decoded transmission to be shared between them. He was starting to understand her mannerism and she was starting to read his mind. They’ve yet to speak about last night and it was clearly going to be dealt with later.

 

With her crimson pantsuit and the smile on her face, you’d never know she was just crying.

 

⟵♡⟶

 

He pressed his earpiece. “Scavenger is with the Duchess and Eagle. I have eyes on the Maverick and Rebel by the motorcade.”

 

Agent Solo nodded a response before coming back into reality.

 

Rey waved and smiled.

 

At first, he was angry.

 

She had violated their trust and ran off once more. It was only the first stop of their month-long campaign tour and she was already testing the skill of his entire legion of security agents.

 

But then, he saw her at the party and witnessed the energy she radiated. She was a star that had yet to go supernova—at least to the eyes on Earth. Maybe distantly, she was only a memory. Rey was a spirit that could live in the moment and when she discovered those rare moments of joy, it would have to be pried from her corpse.

 

“Ready?” He asked.

 

She nodded while continuing to present herself at the horde of citizens and reporters.

 

He admired her ability to stifle a cry if it meant smiling for the world.

 

Rey blew a final kiss before turning on her heel.

 

Side-by-side, they strutted across the tarmac to the idling vehicles. It was Ben’s favorite part of his job—walking by her side. Finn and Poe awaited for them by the motorcade, as he had reported to the other agents. They were reading over the copy of the paper Connix had gifted Rey.

 

“I’m on the front cover,” Finn gasped. “My grandma is going to freak out.”

 

“They spelled my name wrong,” Poe groaned.

 

Finn yanked the paper from his hands and grinned wickedly.  

 

“Aw, it’s okay Po. At least it is pronounced the same way.”

 

When they reached the car, Agent Solo begun to load their remaining bags into the trunk. They were staying at a campground a few miles into the mountains.

 

Meanwhile, a few secondary agents kept their eyes on the peering crowd for any suspicious activity. From across the tarmac, a group of military servicemen were approaching. They were led by a single man, who kept his course set on Rey.

 

“It is an absolute honor to have you here,” saluted the military captain.

 

“The honor is mine, Captain…” Rey scanned his badge, “Rex, is it?”

 

Agent Solo eyed their exchange.

 

He had no reason to be suspicious. He just held her hand in a shake far too long for his own liking.

 

“Welcome to Eadu Air Force Base.”

 

Located in the countryside of West Virginia, Eadu Air Force Base was tucked from the cities and away from daily distraction. The lack of air traffic gave the pilots the ability to play with their toys in the sky.

 

Just then, a group of fighter jets soared overhead. The force was strong enough to sweep their hair over their faces and send a rattle through their eardrums.

 

Finn stared in awe. “It’s like a real life Top Gun.”

 

“Have you ever been in an F-15?” Captain Rex smiled.

 

“Uh,” Finn chuckled. “Can’t say I have?”

 

“Would you like to go for a ride?”

 

There was a moment of absolute silence while Finn collected his thoughts. Even Rey was dumbfounded. Was this guy seriously about to give them rides in an aircraft that could reach a thousand miles an hour? He was joking, right?

 

Even Agent Solo seemed astonished. He had stopped loading the bags.

 

“We have a few aircrafts you can choose from,” the Captain nodded towards a shed on the opposing side of the airstrip. “Unless you’re too busy?”

 

Finn pivoted to stare directly at Rey.

 

“I, uh…” she passed the glance to the only person that mattered. “It’s up to my security.”

 

Every eye landed on Agent Solo. He definitely did not appreciate that attention.

 

It felt all too familiar.

 

When he was a kid, his father taught him how to fly a flimsy piston plane. They had bought it for dirt cheap at a farmer’s market and spent the entire summer fixing it. His mother despised the day they got the engine to hum.

 

Following his months in the Marines, he taught himself how to fly the FA-18 Hornet. He’d never admit how free he felt taking that bad boy for a spin above Kuwait.

 

“I’m down,” Agent Solo shrugged, desperately concealing his excitement.

 

⟵♡⟶

 

“You’re flying with Poe?” Rey questioned.

 

Finn looked conflicted. His eyes danced between her and the fighter jet that awaited behind him. He was wearing a full-on jumpsuit far too similar to the Top Gun costume he wore to the eighties club a few weeks ago.

 

“He’s my eighties Tom Cruise, Rey.”

 

She groaned at the analogy. “Fine. Go.”

 

Her permission took a weight from his shoulder. He grinned that same old Finn grin and pivoted on his heels, running towards the aircraft. The pilot stood by the wing, helping him get his helmet on properly.

 

It wasn’t like she hadn’t been in a plane before. Helicopters were cool and fighter jets were probably not that much different. If anything, she could take the next ride. Maybe Captain Rex had another Eagle sitting around in his gigantic shed of military toys.

 

Rey felt a nudge in her shoulder.

 

When she turned, she came face-to-face with Ben’s chest. She raised her chin, eyeing him skeptically. He was wearing a jumpsuit himself, his black suit still visible along the trimming. It was remarkable they even had one in his size.

 

Her eyes lowered slowly. He was holding two helmets.

 

“You coming?”

 

“Where?”

 

“They have an F-18 and lucky for you, I know someone who can fly one.”

 

“You’re not serious.”

 

He shoved a helmet into her hands. _“Oh, I’m serious.”_

 

⟵♡⟶

 

She didn’t even flinch when the cockpit slammed shut. Han would have loved her.

 

“This is Agent Solo requesting access to the runway.”

 

“Agent Solo, this is your air traffic controller. You are clear for take-off.”

 

He flipped a few switches above his head and Rey squealed with excitement. He smiled at the sound that echoed through their shared microphone channel. The power of a supersonic war machine started to grow in acceleration beneath their feet. She could feel her own bones start to rattle to the marrow.

 

“Are you ready, Rey?” His voice was slightly muffled from the facemask. Through the channel, she could hear it in her own headset. He grabbed a hold of the joystick between his legs.

 

“Fucking do it,” she shouted. Her heart was practically jumping from her chest.

 

Just turning the aircraft to align itself on the runway sent her into an anxious spiral. She glanced over his shoulder to anticipate his thrust forward. She was belted into the passenger seat located behind him with the most sturdy parachute attached—just in case.

 

“Where do you wanna go?”

 

“The clouds,” she responded. “Over the mountains.”

 

“I can do that.”

 

Without much warning, the jet lurched forward. Rey’s back plastered into her seat. She screamed until her stomach did a cartwheel, condemning a laugh instead. The jet lifted from the runway and ascended into the air. Mountains protruded into the horizon, piercing the blue sky of her emerald blood and soon enough, the horizon itself disappeared.

 

The force itself was overwhelming. Rey could hardly breathe.

 

He did twists and turns, and barrel-rolls like a kid that just stole the keys to their father’s sports car. Of course Agent Solo was a natural at flying a fighter jet. Of course.

 

Rey held her cross-body belt, squealing in delight each time she turned upside down. Through the window that surrounded their heads, she wasn’t quite sure which way was up and which way was down. She didn’t really care, either. It was all beautiful and blended together like paint. They shot through the art, breaking the bristle streaks with their power.

 

“See that?” Ben steadied the jet and pointed.

 

Rey followed the field of view to a speck of gathered light. From this high up, she could see the veins of the countries. “Yeah?”

 

“That’s Pittsburgh.”

 

Before she could give the city another glance, he shoved the joystick forward and the jet gave another kick. They shot off like a bullet, breaking the sound barrier like a rocket heading to Mars.

 

They spent the entire day defying gravity and when he finally had to land from a low diesel warning, Rey employed every ounce of will in her body to resist jumping into his arms.

 

⟵♡⟶

  

> **\- Rey | 10:42 PM -**
> 
> I’m chilly.
> 
>  
> 
> **\- Ben | 10:44 PM -**
> 
> It’s July.
> 
>  
> 
> **\- Rey | 10:46 PM -**
> 
> Can you plz bring me a jacket?
> 
>  
> 
> **\- Ben | 10:49 PM -**
> 
> Yeah. Give me a min.
> 
>  
> 
> **\- Ben | 10:55 PM -**
> 
> Where are you guys?
> 
>  
> 
> **\- Rey | 10:58 PM -**
> 
> Don’t act like this tracker in my phone doesn’t work all of a sudden.

 

⟵♡⟶

 

When Ben came out to join them, he wasn’t sure what to expect.

 

He felt foolish using the tracker. The little blue dot on his map pulsed in the middle of the woods. It was easily a ten minute walk from the cabins. Adventurous for any wanderer but dangerous for the President’s daughter.

 

As he closed the distance between them, other senses kicked in before he could spot them.

 

The smell of the bonfire was first. An aroma of burning wood and charcoal reminded him of nights in Illinois, when he would curl his head into his mother’s lap and let her rake fingers through his hair.

 

Then, it was the sound. Music was playing on a speaker and it allowed Ben to tuck his phone away and simply use the sound to trace their steps.

 

It was warm. The golden and wine flames flickered in the shadows of olive flora and the bark of trees that stood far too high for their eyes to see. The canopy concealed them completely, stealing the stars from them.

 

⟵♡⟶

 

“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you.”

 

Rey watched Finn’s thumb trace along Poe’s hand.

 

“We were still kinda working it out,” Poe added. “We didn’t purposely mean to keep anything from you.”

 

It didn’t bother Rey to see her only boyfriend in her life cuddle with another person. Finn and her were best friends for a reason. The twinge inside was more unsettled about having to share his time. She was going to lose a piece of that, for sure.

 

She could only sympathize. It must have been nice to have that connection with another.

 

A branch snapped and she glanced over, anticipating the absolute worst. It wasn’t even a bear she worried about, but rather a news respondent with a fucking microphone and notebook of questions.

 

“Hey,” Ben awkwardly tripped over a downed tree.

 

“Well hello there Agent Solo,” sung Finn. “Taking a late night walk?”

 

He nodded towards Rey, holding out a jacket. “Someone was cold.”

 

Finn raised an eyebrow. Without realizing it, he had admitted that it was him Rey was messaging. In the luminous sight of her phone screen, she had been smiling while sending a message to _him_.

 

“You’re such a chap,” Finn teased.

 

In the concealment of the darkness, Ben rolled his eyes.

 

“How did you guys even start this?”

 

“My dad taught me to make fires,” Rey smirked. “Impressed?”

 

“It’s okay. Your wood could be drier.” He extended his arm. “Here.”

 

Rey accepted the sweatshirt. Despite the cinder, she could not misplace the scent. It was the same cologne he was wearing last night when he _accidentally_ fell onto her. She pulled the collar over her head, creating static that heightened some loose strands. It was nearly twice the size of her.

 

It was one of his own.

 

“Thanks,” she smiled sheepishly.

 

Ben awkwardly stood in their company. He was waiting for a proper invitation.

 

“Sit. We have s’mores.”

 

He settled for the log that Rey occupied.

 

“Here,” she passed him a stick and an opened bag of marshmallows.

 

“Thanks,” he mumbled.

 

He looked different but a _good_ different.

 

A red flannel hugged his biceps, as dark-washed jeans hugged his legs. He was even wearing a heavy pair of boots. He could have walked out of an Old Spice commercial. It always sent Rey into a state of disturbance when he wore something other than a black suit. He was suddenly any other man and at that, her words were choked in her throat and stuttered into sentences.

 

Over the fire, she stared at Finn until he felt her glare. Ben was too busy assembling a s’more, the discomfort of the stickiness annoying him, to notice the stare.

 

Finn exchanged a contorted grimace.

 

Rey raised her eyebrows and gestured with a slight nod to the forest.

 

Finn’s face brightened. He mouthed an _‘ohhhhh.’_

 

“You know,” Finn stretched, yawning. “It’s getting late.”

 

“What? We just got—?”

 

Poe barely got it out before Finn nudged his gut.

 

“Yes, tomorrow is a long day,” he groaned, rubbing the ache.

 

“Do you guys know your way back to the cabins?” Ben asked, putting his stick into the flames. Of course he was the type to set his marshmallow on fire. “I could walk with you?”

 

“No, no, no, that wouldn’t be necessary.”

 

“Are you—?”

 

“Yes, we’re fine.”

 

Before he could fight it further, Poe and Finn had disappeared into the trees. Instead, he shrugged off the urgency in their voices and pulled the stick from the flame to blow the marshmallow out. Holding the stick between his closed thighs, he assembled the graham crackers and chocolate.

 

“I haven’t made s’mores since I was, like six.”

 

“You’ve been missing out, Ben Solo.”

 

“It seems I have been, Rey Kenobi.”

 

He bit in, allowing the mess to happen. It was just them, anyway.

 

The same comforting silence settled between them. A melody played between the music, owl’s hooting and the crackling of the bonfire. Their embers gyrated into the darkness, disappearing into the blanket of midnight.

 

Rey watched the flames dance off his face. They tangled with the honey-pot syrup any other person would call his eyes.

 

Whether it was the heat of the fire or the knowing glance in his direction, he felt a foolish smile sweep across his face. It was far too cheeky to hide.

 

“What?”

 

“Nothing,” she smiled back.

 

“I know. I have chocolate on my face.”

 

“It’s a good look.”

 

He rolled his eyes, using his sleeve to wipe the corners of his mouth.

 

“Thank you for today,” Rey mumbled.

 

She wasn’t particularly sure what she meant by that. His soothing advice, the exhilarating ride in a fighter jet, the adrenaline afterwards when she wanted to jump into his arms, his company.

 

Everything.

 

Just… Thank you.

 

“Thank you for not running off,” he teased back.

 

“I guess I never properly apologized for that.”

 

He shrugged. “It got handled.”

 

“My dad knows you lied.”

 

“Yeah, he won’t do anything though.”

 

“Why?”

 

“I saved his life, he kinda owes me.”

 

Rey withheld her laughter. _He really saw it that way?_

 

“I’m kidding,” he suddenly started to laugh and it was the sweetest song she had ever heard in her life. “I’m so fucked if you pull that again. So, don’t.”

 

“I won’t,” she smiled at the ground.

 

The soil was already starting to be covered by disregarded leaves up in the mountains.

 

> _“You’re going to place the spindle on the board and roll as quickly as you can. Do not give up.”_
> 
>  
> 
> _“This is hard,” Rey whined. She could feel her young muscles grow tired._
> 
>  
> 
> _“Of course it’s hard, little dove. If it was easy, everyone would be building fires.”_

 

 _My Eyes by the Lumineers_ played on an old radio, stitched by the static and the rustle of leaves.

 

The music echoed through the forest, a slow moving river that burbled over the hill. The breeze picked up, brisk enough to warn the impending autumn. It rustled the kudzu that entangled within the dying trees and sent shivers up her back.

 

The gravity was too strong to ignore. He could blame it on the breeze that did seem a bit more brisk, not that he acknowledged it. In the pocket of the hoodie she wore, their knuckles started to intertwine. Their hesitation softened into reassurance as their grips tightened and became more sure of themselves.

 

She was warm.

 

They were holding hands by the fire and there was absolutely nothing to say.

 

Ben scooted closer and Rey pretended not to notice.

 

It wasn’t even Vermont but it felt like home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> OOOOOOF OKAY.


	10. Kiss Your Scars

**Chapter Ten**

Kiss Your Scars

⟵♡⟶

 

**Rey Kenobi | 8:47 AM**

**@ReyKenobi:** This is the official Twitter account for the First Daughter, Rey Kenobi. This account will be managed by a social media moderator. Any tweets by Rey will be signed “-R.” Thank you.

 

**@DamnRebel followed @ReyKenobi.**

 

**@FN2187 followed @ReyKenobi.**

 

⟵♡⟶

 

The President’s daughter was notorious for kicking the hornet’s nest and dancing within the swarm. Ben had been warned on numerous occasions, yet absolutely nothing prepared him for this.

 

Ever since the bonfire, things had been… different.

 

Almost every single sentence was lost in a wordsearch—begging to be discovered and highlighted. A simple _hello_ seemed offbeat and difficult to conjure up, which is why Ben did it more often than not.

 

There were little tidbits he changed in his behavior. They were midsts of a swordsman’s tango, circling and following one another’s lead. If she drew, he did. If he stepped forward on the left, she stepped backward on the right. They both pretended not to notice. If it was mutual, it could be perceived as routine, conventional or standard. They were simply just getting along better.

 

That night in West Virginia didn’t particularly change anything. It only confirmed the suspicions that trailed their thoughts. Ben could still detail the smize on her face and how it deflated to an expression of astoundment, the moment he ripped that joint from her grasp.

 

It seemed ever since that first encounter, they were one-upping—tallying their scores.

 

They both won that night the moon was crescent.  

 

By the bonfire, they sat until it smoldered to silence. They ambled through the midnight forest, together, returning to the cabins. The others were asleep but the forest was more alive than ever, an array of howling, hooting, and chirping. Tracked by the crinkle of leaves and snapping of branches beneath their feet, they took their utter time.

 

Even Rey noticed the shift in the tide.

 

Ben had not argued for his sweatshirt back. She got to keep it.

 

He made sure she got settled in okay and Rey even noticed the hesitation before he said his final goodnight. She crumbled beneath the thought of him thinking the very same thing she did.

 

_Stay. Sleep here. We can add it to our list of secrets._

 

In the archaic mountains, Rey concluded that Ben _was different_ from the other agents. It wasn’t because they got along, or he was more understanding, or any less stringent. It was because Ben actually liked her too.

 

As the tour progressed, so did their friendship.

 

Without much verbal agreement, it became a bilateral understanding that they were equal. Two separate forces, when combined, creating an unspeakable balance. He was tough when her edges were rounded off and she was spontaneous when he was reserved.

 

Each and every single campus tour stop was met with trips to coffee shops, laughter that grew louder, and impromptu adventures of local treasures.

 

Somehow, Rey persuaded the strict and grown Agent Solo into matching _Mickey Ears_ for the entirety of their free-day in _the Magic Kingdom_ . Finn even got millions of photos for proof, to which Ben threatened to use his connects at the federal bureau to have his iCloud _completely nuked_. He even allowed her to bungee-jump in North Dakota, drink at the drag show in Las Vegas, and lean over the edge of the Hoover Dam.

 

Each and every single time, his apprehension and resistance became less and less. Instead, the trust between them was flourishing.

 

When Rey finally received her second letter of recommendation from the Secretary of State, Ben seemed more enthusiastic than she did. That night, he ordered her, Finn, and Poe some pizza and took them to a local arcade. He even made sure the owner played eighties music the entire night.

 

They texted. Nonstop. From important updates to games of 8ball at three in the morning.

 

They were friends and it was the first time Rey enjoyed having security with her. _This is what it should have always been like,_ she remembered thinking. Her life in the White House wouldn’t have been nearly as depressing or atrocious if Ben had always been her agent.

 

Yet, secretly, she was happy they met now. There was a glimmer of a chance.

 

She was eighteen, afterall. _Not saying that was what she wanted_ , but it wasn’t impossible either.

 

“My question is for Rey.”

 

She snapped from her thoughts, recalibrating her posture and demeanor that definitely started to slump. It was way too early to be visiting a college campus. Even with her latte that Ben picked up, she was swallowing her yawns and avoiding the desire to blink slower and slower.

 

The tour was starting to catch up to her: late nights, early mornings and a busy schedule.

 

“Hi,” Rey smiled at the student. “Ask me anything.”

 

Unlike other large universities, this stop had been coordinated to be more intimate. The lecture room was full of graduate students, each drowning in debt and equally nauseated about the future. In the morning, they displayed their studies and pitched their solutions. Their worries were vital to Rey. Not only because she had the power to whisper-down-the-lane, but because it was her impending future as a student.

 

Hoth University was an Ivy League school located ten minutes outside of Chicago, Illinois. Everyone in the room was well-educated and privileged, yet they still struggled. It threw Rey into a loop, her mind wandered to those that were even less fortunate.  

 

Lots of things were dwelling; clouding her mind as of late. It wasn’t just about gun-control, anymore. There was so much to worry about. How her father managed it? The hell she knew.

 

“I know you recently graduated high school. Do you have any plans for higher education?”

 

“I’m flattered you are interested in my future.”

 

The student shrugged, their chin in their hand.

 

“I am actually applying to schools right now,” Rey flashed a smile into Ben’s direction. He was standing by the door and holding his own coffee. She caught the return of his own smile before redirecting her attention back on the student. “My chosen major is political science.”

 

“I do not mean to offend,” the student continued. “But weren’t you the least interested in the political agenda, as recently as a month ago?”

 

“Yes,” Rey admitted. “I won’t deny that I spent my childhood in the White House, ignoring the world’s problems outside my walls. I feel sick just thinking about it. I wasted a lot of time.”

 

The student raised their eyebrow, expecting further explanation.

 

“I could have organized events, volunteered, hosted fundraisers? I could have been more actively involved? However,” she shrugged towards Poe Dameron, who sat quietly beside her. “It isn’t too late to begin and I am happy with my choices.”

 

“Would you ever become the President?”

 

Rey blushed at the thought. “I can barely remember to water my plants.”

 

“I would vote for you. You seem genuine.”

 

Her stomach churned.

 

> _“Again.”_
> 
>  
> 
> _“Mom,” Rey whined. “I’m tired.”_
> 
>  
> 
> _“We cannot have the daughter of Vermont’s governor failing her social studies test.”_
> 
>  
> 
> _She sighed, taking a deep breath. “Washington, Adams, Jefferson, Madison, Monroe, Quincy Adams, Jackson, Buren, Harrison, Tyler, Polk—” She hesitated, thinking about it. “—Taylor?”_
> 
>  
> 
> _Her mother nodded._
> 
>  
> 
> _“—Taylor, Fillmore, Pierce, Lincoln—”_
> 
>  
> 
> _“No.”_
> 
>  
> 
> _“Grant?”_
> 
>  
> 
> _“No, Rey. Buchanan, Lincoln, Johnson, and then Grant. Try again.”_
> 
>  
> 
> _“Mom,” she wailed._
> 
>  
> 
> _“Please, Rey. We have people to impress.”_

 

She could feel a familiar anxiety. The same jitter when she pushed her last box into the moving truck, or heard the other kids whisper for the first time, it was the the same sensation from an airstrip in Belfast. It hit too close to home and typically meant anything but that, so she did what her mother taught her to do, and she forced a winning smile.

 

“I’m flattered. Thank you.”

 

⟵♡⟶

  

> _“If you define yourself by the power to take life, the desire to dominate, to possess… then you have nothing.”_
> 
>  
> 
> _The day her father was elected, she didn’t smile at the cameras, she didn’t watch the flags wave or the citizens shout their given name. Her eyes fixated on the man that was twice her size and had never looked more accomplished or proud before._
> 
>  
> 
> _Spotlights eclipsed a shadow on her face, her father was so bright._
> 
>  
> 
> _“The dreams of our Founders are still alive in our time. Never question the power of our democracy. Hope lives.”_
> 
>  
> 
> _He turned, smiling at his daughter._

 

Outside the auditorium, Rey admired the artwork. The mural had been graffitied onto the side of a residential building, where the campus met the bordering neighborhoods. The seasons had started to erode the paint, yet a fresh coat still managed to inconspicuously upkeep the poster.

 

Rey remembered. It was an anonymous student artist but it made national headlines.

 

The town had voted not only to keep the artwork up, but to maintain it as well.

 

It had been her father’s campaign slogan in 2020. He was reusing it now, in 2024.

 

_Obi-Wan Kenobi. Our Only Hope._

 

Some would argue not to fix something that wasn’t broke. Yet, even in her moments of ignorance, Rey knew many things still needed mending.

 

“Do you know why they call him that?”

 

Reassurance wasn’t necessary. She already knew the voice belonged to Ben. He was standing behind her now. For how long, she wasn’t sure.

 

“Hope is intangible. Dress for the occasion and you can convince anyone of it.”

 

His eyes lingered on her as she disappeared to their idled motorcade.

 

⟵♡⟶

 

“There have been zero mishaps since Dagobah,” Ben promised. “I made sure of it.”

 

His cell phone was tucked between his cheek and shoulder. His hands steadily unloaded his gun. The weapon laid rest on the tabletop as he pushed his thumbs against the bullets, dropping them one-by-one.

 

When sworn into the service, you were given a plethora of toys. Anything that made disarming and handicapping the other swift and easy.

 

Ben’s absolute favorite was his P229. It was standard for combat and law enforcement but the lighter alternative to the weapons he wielded in the military.

 

It was _always_ within reach and it was _always_ ready to fire.

 

“I’m glad she hasn’t been giving you too hard of a time.”

 

“I find it easier if she thinks she’s in control,” Ben grabbed his cloth and started to wipe the magazine. “Let her do what she wants.”

 

“ _Aah, right._ Bungee jumping.”

 

“Yeah, that one gave me a heart attack.”

 

“Did she have fun though?” The voice asked.

 

“Yes,” Ben observed the top, ensuring the trigger’s pivot pin was still intact. “They all enjoyed the jet flying in West Virginia, too.”

 

“That military clearance was difficult to get but I knew I could trust you.”

 

“She’s in good hands,” Ben alternated his phone to the other ear before attempting assemblement. “I also took your advice and sent the college applications in.”

 

“Okay, good. I’ll make sure my aide knows and we’ll get those acceptances by September.”

 

“She worked very hard on it.”

 

“I bet.”

 

_Please don’t tell her that you know and that I was the one that told you._

 

“She won’t be happy to hear you meddled with the acceptances.”

 

“Rey would have gotten into any school regardless of her grades or letters. They all jump at the acceptance of the President’s daughter like a high-performing running back. I’m just speeding up the process.”

 

“It will still hurt her,” Ben warned. “She likes independence and this is something she’s been very dedicated to.”

 

“You have compassion for her,” the other voice taunted. “Yet, I hear you and I promise it remains a tight-kept secret.”

 

Ben had a lot of those nowadays.

 

“I have to go. Dinner with the mayor,” the voice sounded annoyed. “We will be in touch.”

 

“Okay. Take care, sir.”

 

Ben hung up. His hands were covered in a slick of oil. Before he could place his phone down, a red notification on his voicemail box pulsated. Curiosity grew on him as he opened the application, the timer of the message staring back at him.

 

The most recent was only twenty-two seconds long.

 

He pressed play.

 

Chaotic cacophony as hands maneuvered too close to the speaker, the sound of a car’s blinker in the background and then the grumble of that old-hearted voice.

 

> _Hi son. I wanted to wish you a Happy Memorial Day. Hope to hear from you soon._
> 
>  
> 
> _I know you’re still upset with me but I appreciated the birthday present in the mail. Did you really get to visit Russia? This job seems perfect for you._
> 
>  
> 
> _Ben, saw the news this morning. Please call me back. I’m glad you’re okay._
> 
>  
> 
> _Hi again, it’s me. I’m not sure if these messages are delivering but I saw the news and that Kenobi tour is stopping by. Hopefully if you have a day-off you could come visit your old man. I know you’re very busy but I thought I would reach out._

 

In the time of every voicemail to play—swiftly and efficiently—he reassembled, reloaded, and cocked the trigger of his gun.

 

He exhaled and lowered the idled weapon before he did anything crazy.  

 

⟵♡⟶

 

Rey gawked at the ceiling. With the absence of her friends, the hotel was quiet.

 

After the morning spent at Hoth University, they had ran off to the city. Rey was invited, but it would have been intrusive. Poe deserved his Finn-only time, just as much as Rey did. Plus, she had too much baggage and liability. Ben had checked the possible escape routes of the hotel and then he checked them again. Their simple date would have turned into a commotion of secret service men, security clearance, and peering eyes from tourists.

 

If it was just them, they wouldn’t have to worry about all that.

 

Staying behind for the sake of others was a common thing to Rey. She was used to confinement and her thoughts as company.

  

> **\- Rey | 12:32 PM -**
> 
> I’m bored.
> 
>  
> 
> **\- Ben | 12:36 PM -**
> 
> Hi bored, I’m Ben.
> 
>  
> 
> **\- Rey | 12:38 PM -**
> 
> ¬_¬
> 
>  
> 
> **\- Ben | 12:42 PM -**
> 
> Ha.
> 
>  
> 
> **\- Ben | 12:42 PM -**
> 
> What are Finn and Poe up to?
> 
>  
> 
> **\- Rey | 12:47 PM -**
> 
> They’re going on a date. I don’t feel like third wheeling.
> 
>  
> 
> **\- Ben | 12:49 PM -**
> 
> You wouldn’t have been a third wheel.

 

Rey rolled over in bed. She stared at the text message for so long, the pixels could have bled into her pupils. Her heart could beat a seasoned racehorse.

 

_Ba-ding._

 

Another message loaded.

  

> **\- Ben | 12:52 PM -**
> 
> You’re all good friends. They wouldn’t have made you feel that way.

 

 _Uggggggh,_ Rey groaned. Her fingers created a spasm over the keyboard, the tiny clinking noises filling her otherwise reticent and empty chamber.

  

> **\- Rey | 12:53 PM -**
> 
> I wanna go do something.
> 
>  
> 
> **\- Ben | 12:55 PM -**
> 
> The day is yours. I’m down for whatever.

 

⟵♡⟶

 

“Can I sit in the front?”

 

He shifted the gear into drive, pulling from the curb. “Why?”

 

“You feel like my Lyft driver when I sit in the back.”

 

He chuckled at that before pulling the car onto the highway. He headed towards uptown Chicago, knowing there would be some things to do in that area. Other vehicles mindlessly passed, unaware that the President’s daughter occupied the SUV beside them.

 

Her elbow nudged into his neck. He quickly readjusted the wheel, not to go into the lane or the truck beside them. Without much warning, Rey started to shove herself through the partition that separated the front and back passengers.

 

“Rey, stop.” Ben ordered. “Let me pull over.”

 

Disregarding his comments, she continued to squirm and squiggle until she plopped onto the passenger’s seat upside-down. She struggled with her legs in the air and her tongue sticking from the corner of her mouth.

 

“Really?” He chuckled, nudging her off the middle panel. “You’re going to crash the car.”

 

“And…” Rey shoved her back into crook that separated the door and seat, straightening herself out in the process. “...She sticks the landing.”

 

“Graceful,” he deadpanned.

 

“So, where we going?” She eyed the road signs and the navigational system.

 

“We can do whatever you want.”

 

Almost kismet, a billboard passed on the side of the freeway. Rey grinned to herself. It was devious, almost too insidious.

 

“What?” Ben questioned. He had one wrist draped over the steering wheel. “I don’t like that smile, Rey.”

 

She knew somebody with the best networking circle. They wouldn’t mind.

 

“Let me make a phone call.”

 

“Rey?” He repeated her name.

 

Sometimes she ignored him purposely _just_ to hear him say her name.

 

On her phone, she scrolled through her contact list before clicking the name of a high-ranking aide to her father.

 

⟵♡⟶

 

_“Wrigley Field and the Chicago Cubs welcome the First Daughter of the United States, Rey Kenobi.”_

 

Rey waved, knowing the camera that fed into the jumbo screen was filming her. She wasn’t too sure which direction, so she just waved and smiled left-to-right and to the entirety of the crowd. They were all cheering while the tune of a patriotic song played through the speaker system.

 

She waved and waved until the camera feed stopped to film the first pitch.

 

Their private suite was on the upper level of the stadium, a perfect view of the entire playing field and the skyline of Chicago over the rafters. It included full catering services and enough seats for her father’s entire cabinet, but today, only Ben and Rey were occupying the suite.

 

“You seriously get these for any game? Any team?”

 

Rey sunk back into her seat. “Consider it a perk to the office.”

 

“Daytona 500?”

 

Rey nodded, showering her french fries in ketchup.

 

“US Open Finals?”

 

She nodded again.

 

“What about—?”

 

“—And March Madness, the Triple Crown, and so on. I haven’t missed a Super Bowl since I was fourteen. Some teams even let me get signed merchandise and visit the locker-room.”

 

Ben fell back into his seat. He readjusted the baseball cap on his head.

 

“I could, ya know…” her voice trailed momentarily. “I could get you tickets, sometime.”

 

All he could think about was his dad and his love for the Blackhawks. Since listening to the voicemails, Ben was having a difficult time forgetting his father’s voice. It had been a while—too long—since he last saw him.

 

“Would that include the NHL?”

 

“Yes,” she reciprocated, stuffing her face with the messy finger food. “Just give me a heads up.”

 

Arguably, baseball was the quintessence of America.

 

It was a polished-wood, leather-gloved, grass-stained kind of love.

 

Salty-savory, yeasty scents filled his nostrils. He hadn’t had a hotdog from a sports game since before the military. They tossed popcorn in the air and caught it in their mouths. Rey’s fingers were covered in blue stains from her cotton-candy, a tunnel of sugar and childhood. They gambled over the plays and whether someone would strike out and, of course, she knew every single word to _Take Me Out to the Ballgame_.

 

From the start to the bottom of the ninth, he felt more and more like Rey’s friend than her bodyguard.

 

⟵♡⟶

 

“Deep dish pizza is the best in Chicago,” Rey affirmed. “It’s just a fact. I’ve been around this entire country and no other pizza has stolen my heart the way this city’s does.”

 

“Have you ever had New York pizza?”

 

“I have had pies from the Bronx, Queens, Brooklyn, Manhattan, and even the island.” She boasted. “Get on my level, Ben Solo.”

 

“Have you ever been to the Pizza Hut in Kuwait?”

 

“That’s, uh, random?” Rey dribbled.

 

“Sounds like you’re dancing around a no,” he teased. The tiny specs from the crusted dough outlined his lips—not that Rey was staring.

 

“I’ve had oven-panned while visiting Italy,” she countered.

 

“So have I.”

 

“Liar.”

 

“I’m not lying, my family visited.”

 

“What part?” She quizzed.

 

“Venice.”

 

“Was it thin or thick? What kind of cheese?”

 

“How should I remember?” He chuckled, pulling another slice from their half-eaten pie. They were sitting in the window of a small pizza shop, somewhere tucked down a quiet street of South Chicago. His baseball hat was low on her eyes. “It was years ago.”

 

Rey couldn’t remember what kind of pizza she had in Italy, either, but it was worth the seconds of fucking around with him.

 

“You went with your family?” She chose her words carefully. “Before—uh—your mom?”

 

Ben nodded. “I was in middle school. We used to travel a lot. My mom was actually into politics.”

 

“Excuse me?”

 

Her eyes followed his movements as he sprinkled his slice with crushed red pepper flakes. The cheese was melting, practically sliding from the dough. He had to act quick or he’d lose it all.

 

“Your mother was a politician?”

 

“Would you believe me if I told you she wanted to be the President one day?”

 

Rey nearly choked on her soda. She coughed, hitting her chest. “The— _WHAT?_ ”

 

Ben observed her, silently questioning her curiosity. Despite his apprehension, he didn’t mind her knowing a bit more and more about him. He was slowly unraveling himself and becoming comfortable with her.

 

Maybe she was ready to know.

 

He nodded. “She was the top of her class at Alderaan University.”

 

“My dad went to Alderaan University.” She paused. “Wait a minute, when did she go?”

 

Ben shrugged.

 

She wasn’t ready.

 

He stretched his arm out yet the cheese did not surrender to the fight. Instead, it elongated into a flexible string, long enough for Rey to lean over and bite into his middair mozzarella, stealing whatever was left of his slice.  

 

He quickly chewed. “You stealing my pizza, Rey Kenobi?”

 

Rey swallowed. “You stole my fries at the baseball game, Ben Solo.”

 

“Consider us even.”

 

⟵♡⟶

 

She wasn’t ready.

 

When Ben accepted the new assignment, he had no idea that her father never told her stories.

 

Did she know and she was just acting dumb? Was it just another one of her games?

 

There was a reason why Ben was urged to join the secret service after he left the Marines. It was the same acumen that caused Obi-Wan to trust him so much. How else would the rookie recruit shoot his way to the top of the service?

 

It did not start with Belfast and it did not end with Belfast, either.

 

Certain things stuck with Ben, like the whispers from his parent’s bedroom or the exit number on the highway that led to the road they lived on.

 

> _I’m traveling to Frankfurt for a diplomatic mission. I need your support._
> 
>  
> 
> _Ben is only thirteen. He needs his mother here._
> 
>  
> 
> _This is important. The Empire is growing._

 

“Rey?” He was soft-spoken, knowing she was most likely drained from their day. “Do you mind if we stop somewhere? It’ll be quick.”

 

She sat up in her seat, stifling a tender yawn. The day had finally caught up to her. She lazily searched the unfamiliar area. The midwest was another world to her.

 

“Sure,” she mumbled, settling back into her seat.

 

What was there to worry about?

 

He was her security agent. He would never intentionally put her into harm’s way.

 

“The night is yours,” she added. “I’m down for whatever.”

 

⟵♡⟶

 

Running the edge of Lake Michigan and bordered by East 79th Street, Chicago’s south side was for the working-class and for the dreamers. There were more _Mom and Pop_ shops than anything else, some corner bars for the familiar faces, and the train network that ran overhead.

 

The brick-front house on Burnham Avenue, with broken window shades and piss-poor maintenance of the front yard, still had a light on.

 

Rey was good about it. She stuck close to him as they walked up the front steps and she didn’t ask any questions. Ben’s demeanor was enough of an answer for her.

 

He knocked twice. Someone was bickering on the other side.

 

Ben remained patient, acclimated to the aggressive behavior. Thick fingers struggled on the other side to undo the locks on the door, before shortly—it nearly ripped from the hinges to open.

 

The owner of the house was aged. From the lines that molded his facial expression, you could hardly fathom the shit he had endured. He placed one hand on his belt, the other leaning against the door frame. His hip slanted.

 

“Dad.”

 

“Benjamin.”

 

Rey lumberingly glanced between the two of them. They were silently killing one another with the same eyes. She shoved her hand out. “Hi, I’m Rey.”

 

The man refused to break his glare on his son. “What the fuck are you doing bringing the President’s daughter to the southside? Get inside.”

 

⟵♡⟶

 

Questionable wallpaper was peeling from the walls and a single light was on, a bulb without a shade. It sat on a table beside piled beer cans and discarded lottery tickets. The television set was playing the regular evening news cycle. Rey tried to ignore it.   

 

Instead, she watched Ben.

 

His legs were too long for the love seat he occupied causing his ankles to curl over one another. He looked uncomfortable and out of place. Whereas Rey was in jeans and his baseball hat, Ben was wearing expensive suede boots and a flashy wristwatch. He definitely had not planned for this pitstop on the return to their lavish, boutique hotel in downtown Chicago.

 

“Thanks,” Ben threw back the alcohol.

 

Rey had to pull his teeth to get him to drink at the Fourth of July party. He was definitely uneasy.

 

_Say anything. Absolutely anything._

 

“I like your cat,” Rey blurted.

 

“Thanks,” Han crossed the stained carpet to the corner of the room. The cat was purring, perched on the top of a tower. The only piece of furniture in the room that looked to be from an actual store and not a curbside, was a maintained and pristined cat tree. “I found him outside during a snowstorm. He hasn’t left since. Fucking freeloader.”

 

Ben tossed his beer back again.

 

Han Solo, a once hardworking man up until his employer claimed bankruptcy and his factory was foreclosed, shoving everyone in the South Side into unemployment and welfare. Seemingly, a family man, too. That was, at least, according to the family photos that sat in chipped frames on the tabletops and fireplace panel.

 

Her smile contorted, her canines pushing through fastened lips. “I’ve always wanted a pet.”

 

“Want this one?” Han scratched beneath the cat’s neck. The feline purred, bowing its head into his palm.

 

“Rey doesn’t need a cat,” Ben interjected.

 

“Do you want another beer?” Han opened the mini-fridge, taking one for himself.

 

“No, I need to drive us back to the hotel.”

 

Han offered one to Rey, who rebuffed the courtesy. He would enjoy it more, anyway. She watched him plop onto the adjacent shabby and frayed couch before kicking his legs up. Mindlessly, he flipped through the channels on the television. Every single nightly news station was broadcasting the electoral predictions, the state of each candinancy, and the support of their separate campaign tours.

 

“Weird seeing your son on the news,” he commented. “Oddly comforting to know he is doing okay, though.”

 

“The election cycle has been chaotic.”

 

“An annual gift is supposed to make up for that?” He griped. “Other than that, I never hear from my son. It isn’t hard to speak on the phone for a few minutes everyday.”

 

His dad sounded offended and Ben did not protest much. He knew it was wrong.

 

“I only found out about the job from Satine and even she was casual about it, as if I should have known about it already.”

 

Rey’s eyebrow lifted. The air was thick and the room was tense, but she was certain she just heard Agent Solo’s biological dad say her mother’s name like an old friend.

 

Ben seemed unphased, skidding right past his previous arguments to change the subject. “We need to get you out of this house. I have a guest room in Washington.”

 

“I like Chicago,” he took another swig of his beer. “And Washington is too posh for me.”

 

“It wasn’t an issue when mom wanted to live there.”

 

“Well, mom isn’t here anymore.”

 

Rey picked at her cuticles. Between the familial bantering and the news station reporting that Snoke was winning the southern states, she felt her veins on fire. Her ears were turning red as her breathing grew precarious.

 

“What do you mean—?” She interrupted.

 

Han surrendered to his argument, his attention turning back on his company.

 

“You said,” she recollected. “Satine told you about the job. What do you mean—Satine?”

 

He looked dumbfounded. His eyes dithered to meet Ben’s, who were locked mindlessly. His thoughts were distant as he renounced his latency to the argument.

 

“You don’t know?”

 

“Know what?” Rey stammered, her voice straining. _“Ben, what is he talking about?”_

 

Nobody moved and for a fleeting moment, the room was in absolute silence. It was the first time since they arrived that no one argued or threw back their alcohol.

 

Han looked sparing. His expression was long and hard. “Your father was good friends with Ben’s mother growing up. They went to high school together. He was even one of the groomsmen at our wedding.”

 

Her eyes flickered at the framed photos again. She could feel her stomach barrel over, ready to vomit whatever occupied. Swallowing became difficult as she choked on the words.

 

“I don’t mean to offend, but you’re mistaken.”

 

“When I first met your father, his name was Ben Kenobi and he was any other college student stressing over their exams. Him and Leia remained close up until the pregnancy.”

 

“Ben—?” She implored. “Ben Kenobi?”

 

“That was his nickname. Leia stole it for our son, though.”

 

Rey turned in her seat, her eyes burning into her bodyguard’s skin.

 

> _Her eyes glazed over the order label and the italicized name._
> 
>  
> 
> _Rey felt her heart flutter in her ribs like a caged insect. She read the alias over and over and over again. A wave of nervousness coaxed her to ignore the invasion of privacy, but a small flicker in Rey wanted to dive right into that intuitive audacious flare of her’s._

 

“So, when were you going to tell me that you’re named after my dad?”

 

“It’s not crucial and if your father hadn’t told you, I had no authority to.”

 

Rey settled into the cushion. Betrayal was too strong of a word but it was close to the feeling that drowned her thoughts. It was more like, deception and dishonesty. All those secrets they shared and he had some of his own.

 

“You said your mom went to college with my dad?” Rey reiterated from earlier in the day. “Why didn’t you just tell me then?”

 

“Again,” Ben finally brought his eyes to hers. “It wasn’t my story to tell.”

 

She was hardly upset with Ben. Perplexed more than anything, she had questions. Rey tried to gather her thoughts like rain water in cupped hands.

 

“Does my dad know? About your mom?”

 

Ben nodded lazily. “Your dad gave me the position in the secret service when I returned from the Marines. He thought it was the least he could do. Adjusting to civilian life wasn’t easy. I was jettisoned back into a country that disapproved of the war on terror. I didn’t have a lot going for me and he helped me back onto my feet.”

  

> _“College is not an option for everyone,” he kept his voice low and hoarse. In the distance, fireworks crackled and burst. “My mother died when I was a senior in high school and the very next day I signed the paperwork at the recruiting office.”_
> 
>  
> 
> _“I’m sorry. I didn’t know.”_
> 
>  
> 
> _“It’s okay,” he mumbled._

 

The same apologetic eyes looked at her now, only there were no fireworks or party music. Instead, just the serenity of his father’s home and the noise of a television show.

 

It must have happened when she was a child in Vermont. Her father was only the governor at the time. He probably wasn’t even thinking about running for the Presidency at that point. It was before he committed to the office.

 

Maybe his childhood friend’s death was what pushed him to do it.

 

“And your mom?” Rey inquired.

 

“Leia was interested in politics, too, but a different form of them.” Han seemed to be reading from a book he hadn’t cracked open in years. “She was more hands-on and her job required her to travel a lot and gather intelligence. She was assigned to inspect the whispers of a revolution. At the time, the Empire was only an inkling of a terrorist group stationed in Germany. It wasn’t known like it is now.”

  

> _A blast shook the foundation of the building. Gunshots convoyed off one another, growing closer and closer. She was shaking as she spoke into the video camera, sputtering out as much as she could._
> 
>  
> 
> _“Governor Kenobi. Years ago, we were competitors and good friends. Now I beg for you to help me in the struggle against the Empire. I regret that I am unable to return to the United States and to request your aid in person, but my embassy has fallen under attack, and I’m afraid my mission to assist the cause has failed. I have placed information vital to our investigation into the memory systems of this message. The intelligence community will know how to retrieve it. You must see this message safely delivered to Washington. This is our most desperate hour.”_
> 
>  
> 
> _Somewhere, a man shouted in German. She looked teary-eyed and restless._
> 
>  
> 
> _“Help me, Obi-Wan Kenobi. You’re my only hope.”_

 

“You couldn’t talk your mom out of anything,” Han grumbled. “If she was set on it, she was going to do it.”

 

“She was traveling for five years,” Ben deadpanned. “No one sought resolution for her murder and I couldn’t find closure in the military or the presidency. Not until Kenobi decided to run.”

 

“She would have been very proud of you, Ben.”

 

He remained silent.

 

“You stopped Belfast from happening. It was always meant to go this way.”

 

Peace could be housed in silence. Sometimes, the best company were the individuals that could find comfort in a lull. It was somber and his melancholy disposition needed love, and hope.

 

“I miss her,” Ben admitted. “I miss you.”

 

“No one’s ever really gone.”

 

⟵♡⟶

 

The porch light flickered as they stood in the door, bidding their goodbyes.

 

“A Kenobi and an Organa,” Han smiled, stretching muscles that probably hadn’t strained in years. “Always on the hip.”

 

Rey looked up at Ben. She knew all too well the reassurance only home could provide. It may have been why he sympathized with her, so much. He was always understanding but he could relate.

 

She wasn’t the only one that lost a parent.

 

Ben collapsed into his father’s arms, hugging for as long as he possibly could. She stood idly by, refusing to disrupt the moment between them. Turns out, the stern and formidable Agent Solo had forgiveness for more than just her adolescent antics.

 

“I figured I’d meet you one day, kid.” Han’s arms pulled her into the hug. It felt oddly familiar as she sunk her head into his chest, finding amenity in the fatherly embrace. “I just didn’t know it’d be like this.”

 

⟵♡⟶

 

The return to their hotel was brief. In the late hours, the city was motionless and traffic was not an issue. He drove slowly and his braking was soft, as his mind traveled elsewhere.

 

Outside the window, the city past. It was started to rain and droplets coupled on the window, making the streetlights into a disarray of colored orbs. 

 

Rey could always tell when Ben was distant. It was a tidbit she started to notice, but didn’t mind. His eyes would grow glossy, reflecting the outside world. Your own thoughts could be heartening, just as much as they were demonic.

 

When they pulled into the lot and placed the vehicle in park, he remained still. She kept her seatbelt on, waiting for his cue.

 

There was still so much to discuss and straighten-out. She didn’t have the strength for it. All Rey understood was that she found contentment in his crux and maybe, she could teach him to find that in her, too.

 

“The entire week President Kenobi visited Ireland, it poured.”

 

Ben could practically feel his skin crawl at the recollection.

 

“Bizzaringly, the weather was chillier than usual.”

 

“Ben, we don’t have to do this right now.”

 

“I need to say it.”

 

Rey grew mute.

 

Sacrifices were anticipated when you were the leader of the free world. The oath he swore upon did not include missing his only daughter’s graduation for a trip to meet Irish diplomats, yet, that sacrifice was still made.

 

“I was not the head of his security. I was any other agent on the force, lucky enough to be selected for an international trip with the President and to protect him. It was an honor.”

 

He spoke composedly but his eyes had departed elsewhere.

 

“The night before, we received an anonymous tip of the attack. It was the typical threat, a carbon copy from every other foreign foray.”

 

Rey did not interrupt him. He was diligent with his words. Almost calculating, deciding on what to say and what not to say, careful not to intentionally hurt her anymore than he had that day.

 

“The head of the team went through the same-old procedures. He made some phone calls, he changed the schedule, he purposely manipulated the public’s knowledge, and the threat was ruled innocuous.”

 

It was pouring rain. The roads were slick. They had to drive slowly.

 

“The motorcade arrived late to the ceremony. I remember thinking how similar the Stormont looked to Washington architecture. We were assured the perimeter was secured and when we arrived, the celebration could be treated as such.”

 

Her eyes were going dry. She wasn’t blinking. She was anticipating the story, knowing what she knew now. It was like rewatching the same film, _over and over and over again_ , but still becoming startled when the monster jumped out.

 

“Your father was getting countless messages from your mother. He would not stop talking about his little girl graduating from high school. He even showed everyone in the vehicle a photo of you. You were with Finn. You were wearing a tan sundress and your hair was in three buns.”

 

She knew that photo. It sat in a frame, in her bedroom, back in Washington.

 

“I walked my route and I watched the crowd. It was like any other affair.”

 

_Until, it wasn’t._

 

“Something was off, though. My stomach did the same instinctual rotation when we were summoned to the battlefield. The same nosedive when we received the midnight call about my mother. I felt like I was going to be physically sick and the moment I turned, I bumped into him.”

 

_Him._

 

Wilhuff Tarkin, ex-military, nuclear scientist, now known international terrorist and leader of The Empire.

 

“He apologized to me and, at first, I thought nothing of it.”

 

_Bitte entschuldigen sie._

 

Even in the darkness, Rey could see how tight his grasp was on the steering wheel, assuming his own veins weren’t circulating blood.

 

“And then, I realized, he had said it in German. It was as clear as day. _Bitte entschuldigen sie,”_ Ben repeated aloud, suddenly in the identical, thick accent that belonged to Wilhuff. “I thought, _hmph, that’s strange.”_

 

She could almost picture it, with his words. It was the same story that made national headlines, circulated a twenty-four hour news station, traveled through radio airwaves, and became the trending topic on every social media platform, all within minutes.

 

Rey had been at her own celebration. Satine reserved a hibachi table for her, Finn and a few mutual friends. She had still been wearing her robe and graduation hat when the serviceman interrupted their meal.

 

“We were in Ireland. The meeting was supposed to be with Irish diplomats only. I shoved myself between him and his target and my President was rushed out, completely untouched.”

 

Rey sucked in a much-needed inhale. It was exasperated and hard. The inkling of a switchblade reflected in those honey-pot eyes of his. He blinked. Ben was far-flung, his mind out-of-orbit.

 

Her fingers grazing his hand brought him back down.

 

He lowered his chin. “It happened so fast, I couldn’t tell you what it felt like.”

 

“Can I see?”

 

Their eyes searched one another. It wasn’t appropriate but it didn’t feel wrong. She had the answers to his questions. He had the promises she needed kept.

 

Her whisper had felt creamy, a relief to the black coffee that burnt the back of his throat.

 

Trembling, his fingers tucked beneath the hem of his shirt. He pulled up, exposing his own skin beneath. Whether it was the acquiescence of her wandering eyes or the filtered air conditioning unit, chills climbed his spine like a ladder.

 

Her hand extended and he flinched. Rey froze.

 

“I’m sorry,” she confessed.

 

The butterflies rattling in his ribcage begged to be released on the first day of spring. His gut clenched and his palms grew sweaty, yet he found his hand caressing her own and guiding it forward. Rey studied his apprehensive movements as he placed her palm onto the wound. Healed and alleviated, it had never felt more nourished than now.

 

“Does it hurt?”

 

“Not anymore.”

 

They were whispering now.

 

Graciously, she moved with sentiment. She yearned for nothing else but to soothe him. A small fizz of electricity expelled from her pores and buried into his. It would grow into a flower beneath her ray of light.

 

Ben used to think of the lesion as a reminder of his failure.

 

Now he appreciated it as a delicate bridge that delivered him to Rey.

 

He could still feel the lingering impression on his wound as they shuffled into the elevator. It rose in a solar flare, up his spine, and to the base of his neck. Everything was on fire and as the turbolift ascended, he couldn’t help but count the floors.

 

She was standing too far. Her balance was unsteady, shifting between her feet.

 

When they reached their level, he ambled behind her. She moved earnesty, finding her room in the perpetual hallway of olive paint and stone-carved marble.

 

He unlocked his own door, the one adjacent to her bedroom. “Goodnight Rey.”

 

“Goodnight Ben,” she breathed silently.

 

She waved her keycard over the mechanism. The unlocking noise and a pulsating green light granted her to refuge. Sealed from everything, she collapsed against the closed door, frantically trying to collect herself.

 

The baseball cap fell to her feet. She kicked her shoes across the room. She yanked her hair free of the twist ties.

 

It was getting too deep. She would need a parachute from a fall this high.

 

The droplets of water she collected in her cupped palms were escaping. She needed to recuperate through unsteady pulses. Her inhales were too short for the cumulating exhales on their tail.

 

Someone quietly knocked.

 

Rey spun, pushing her forehead against the wooden frame.

 

Another quiet knock.

 

She closed her eyes, meeting the darkness behind her lids.

 

Trembling, her hands grasped the handle. She turned it slowly, cracking the door only a fracture wide. It was enough for the hall’s light to illuminate a glimmering streak down her face.

 

Ben was standing on the opposite side.

 

Towering over her, his foot wedged into the frame. His lips were doing _that thing_ . He even had that _stupid look_ in his caramel-drizzled eyes, sugary and candied, ready to well her into another rush. That interchangeable glint that yearned for something unspoken, a soft collection of secrets they shared.

 

“We shouldn’t.”

 

“I know.”

 

Rey hardly uttered a sound of protest before he silenced it with a sudden kiss.


	11. NFWMB, Except Me

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mood song for this chapter is "NFWMB" by Hozier.

**Chapter Eleven**

Nothing Fucks With My Baby, Except Me

⟵♡⟶

 

He’s kissing her. 

 

Once, twice, and then again until she’s had a taste and realized she’d never have enough.

 

“Ben,” Rey uttered against his lips. 

 

He hummed repeatedly, “I know.”

 

Sinking hesitation and a rush of helplessness, Rey liquified into Ben’s entwinement until his face blurred to nothingness. He walked her back into the hotel room, their feet stumbling over the other, never once breaking their lock. With the door—and the world—sealed behind them, there was no holding back. He kissed her, delicately at first, and then again, with an unexpected earnestness that made her cling to him, the only tangible and stable object in a whizzing, woozy world. 

 

Ben aroused sensations she had never known she was capable of suffering, and before a fluctuating giddiness could capsize her being, she realized she was kissing him back. 

 

Vigorously and passionately. 

 

With a fervent, urgent obligation she had never considered possible, Rey kissed her bodyguard. 

 

Their waltz met demise when the back of her knees greeted the edge of the bed—made and still unsullied—proof it never happened, another unsung secret they could keep. 

 

“If you want me to stop—tell me now,” he breathed through abated exhales. 

 

Everything went oddly quiet, like the juncture after lightning while you awaited the thunder. 

 

She couldn’t formulate a cohesive sentence. All Rey positively knew was the lips of this man, in her quarters, well after midnight, made any other previous kiss feel terribly wrong. She had been waiting for this and she wasn’t entirely sure for how long now. 

 

Anticipation garnered her senses as she withered beneath, falling with only the mattress and his arm snaked beneath her waist to catch her fall. 

 

“Kiss me.” 

 

A long emitness of her warmth lingered between them. 

 

“Is that an order?” He catechized. 

 

He was so close, dangerously and conveniently within kissing length away from her trembling lips. He hovered over her, yearning to drop his weight onto her own. Rey sunk further and further into the bedding’s entrapment. 

 

“I want you,” she leaned forward as he teasingly moved away, “to kiss me.”

 

His thumb was on her bottom lip, tracing the aftershock of their previous blow. She was bruising, yet a heavenly contusion it was becoming. His hand was so considerably large and as Rey rested her cheek into his palm, it easily cradled the embrace. 

 

She batted her eyelashes. 

 

He was hesitating. 

 

Eyes fixated on the stamp he left, Ben realized he had always wanted this, maybe even since the very beginning. This storm was a long coming.

 

> _ Yet, he couldn’t help but eye the oversized tie-dye shirt she was wearing and the white converses on her feet. She looked like she came from Bonnaroo, not an international meeting with the Duchess of Cambridge. _

 

Nobody, absolutely no one, wanted this more than him. Just the savory thought of unwrapping her like a present and pulling him down onto his hips sent a shudder throughout his body.  

 

_ Was this okay? She seemed okay. How long had she wanted this? Since he had the audacity to rip that joint from her hand and smother it to death on the asphalt? Long after? The eighties nightclub when he beat the fuck out of those boys that looked at her wrong? During the fireworks in New York? The moonlight adventure to the Archives? West Virginia? Just today, at the baseball game?  _

 

Vessels ran warm and far below, he was begging for release. 

 

Suddenly, she puckered her lips and kissed the pad of his thumb. 

 

Then again, her eyes batting close. Tenderly and patiently, leaving nothing but a smacking noise. Rey adored what she was given, her lips trailing and dragging his calloused finger. Ben observed with a breath of curiosity until the tip of his thumb to his knuckle was wrapped by her mouth. She sucked midily and he completely dissolved into her, the burden of his body surrendering to her gravity. 

 

“Rey,” he muttered, awestruck. 

 

She dismissed the plea.

 

“Rey,” he repeated, more sure of himself this time. 

 

Her mouth dragged away, leaving the remnants of warmth and moisture. She bowed her head such as a disciplined animal. Nothing could explain the overwhelming certainty that possessed her and continued to do so. A finger slid beneath her chin, lifting her eyes to meet his. Her lips were asking a question and he had all the answers. 

 

_ Nothing will ever be the same if we do this.  _

 

Eagerly, he collided his mouth onto her lips. He devoured her, ravening on what now belonged only to him. 

 

Ben was greedy with his siege and Rey did not mind. Zealous, sloppy kisses were stitched together by his wandering hands—grasping, squeezing, and fondling whatever they discovered. The slightest bit of stubble scratched her face and she didn’t mind—she didn’t mind at all. Equally, they grew confident, convinced by the move of the other. 

 

Engulfed in the duvet, they were swallowed by the bedsheets and displayed no concern or struggle as the water rose and drowned their passion. His hips heaved against her own and  Rey was shocked by the jolt of an opened wire. Her mouth agape and dazed, Ben’s tongue took advantage of her gasp and desired nothing more than to taste the inside of her mouth. 

 

With a similar devotion, her tongue urged itself back. The sleek feeling of his teeth brought an odd satisfaction to her adventure, an aftertaste of peppermint breath was almost rewarding in itself. 

 

Ben’s hand found itself on the back of her head, knotting a fist into her hair. The other ventured to her midsection, pushing up whatever shirt she was wearing.  

 

_ Ben wanted her closer.  _

 

Unrelentingly, he squeezed her abdomen until his fingertips created divots of impressions and she moaned into his mouth. 

 

“Ben,” she gasped. 

 

He tugged her back with a knotted hand, her neck exposed and unprotected from his mouth. His lips dragged up her flesh, leaving a trail of his endearment. He planted kisses. He nipped. 

 

“Don’t—” she gasped, her head hung in gratification. “—leave a mark.” 

 

“I won’t,” he whispered. “No one will know.” 

 

The room they occupied was on the highest floor of the hotel. A balcony view of the scintillating cityscape and the airplanes that lifted and landed from O’Hare, they were among the clouds. Only the moon, a waning crescent, illuminated their crime. 

 

Their lips collided as they tussled with their clothing, becoming engulfed in a chaos of sheets. Delicately, yet frantically—if it were ever possible—clasps were untucked, buttons were undone, and layers of clothing danced across the room into a heap on the floor. Their adrenaline was coursing. 

 

Cool air kissed her flesh, communicating through a disarray of small bumps. She felt conflicted, stuck in a war between the briskness outside the bed and the warmth his mouth exuded against her skin. He worked his way down. Tedious in his journey, he dawdled his kisses from her collarbone to her chest. 

 

“You have a freckle.” 

 

“What?” She sounded dazed, her head had lulled into the pillows.  

 

He kissed the blemish, a dot of burnt sienna that decorated her cleavage. “Here.” 

 

“Oh,” she exhaled. Her heart was pounding. Rey wondered if he could notice. 

 

His single kiss turned to a dozen more until his lips grazed the destination she frantically awaited since her undergarment fell to the floor. He orbited until finally wrapping his lips around the perky mount of her nipple. She tasted sweet, like a ripe pomegranate. 

 

She was never blessed with big breasts, yet he worshipped them like his life had depended upon it. His kisses savored each moment, his eyes closed with a groan somewhere deep in his throat. 

 

And then his lips were in the space between her chest and her abdomen. 

 

And then they moved even lower. 

 

Rey was seeing stars. She had never been held like this, touched like this, or consumed like this. No one had ever held her close and delicately destroyed her purity. Ben seemed to know what he was doing and she didn’t mind. His movements were meticulous and his eyes were mindful. There was no one else she’d rather be doing this with. She trusted him too much for her own good. 

 

His lips grazed the inside of her thighs, enough to send a shiver. Each kiss orbited her center, enticing his lips closer until it was difficult to delay himself any longer. 

 

His mouth was watering. 

 

Ben took a moment to relish at how beautiful she was. Her face flared into a rosy complexion but he hushed her quietly, tucking his head between her parted knees. 

 

His tongue moved eagerly. 

 

“Ben,” she gasped. 

 

He ignored her plea. 

 

Ben moved modestly and took his time. A finger dipping around her entrance, working in motion with his tongue that sent ripples through her nervous system. His eyes closed as he concentrated on nothing else but making her whimper beneath his endeavor. 

 

“Ben,” she repeated, her voice straining. 

 

He was lapping at her, his tongue dragging across until preying on its haven. A tidal wave plunged her beneath and she was over with. Her moans became discordant, ascending to a perpetual bliss. She couldn’t take it any longer. 

 

She raked at the sheets, desperate for anything that could anchor down her shuddering hips. 

 

“Rey,” he raised his head from between her legs. And it was a beautiful sight, his hair in disarray and his lips covered in a slick of her own juice. “You have to be quiet, baby.”

 

She nodded, hastily and unquestionably until his head bowed back down to worship her throbbing core. She buried her face into the pillows and fussed silently. His tongue serenaded her as if he recited the passages of a holy creed against her clit and she was hardly capable of echoing a cry before a finger had slid into her. 

 

His movements were easily, coated with glossy finish. Rey convulsed, her entire body shuddering. His hands wrapped around her thighs, holding her down, refusing her from clamping them closed as he devoured  _ that _ spot relentlessly. 

 

The build up dissolved completely, melting into a quake of perpetual euphoria until she came. Ben rose onto his knees, pleased with himself and wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. 

 

He hummed, easing her with a kiss on the forehead. 

 

The most comforting feeling was their chests skin-on-skin, plastered against one another. Rey could have sworn she felt his distant heartbeat match the cadence of her own. She shuddered from an aftershock, her hips canting upward into his own and Ben gasped expectedly. 

 

Their lips collided as he tussled with his own boxers; kicking them off. 

 

He pushed his hips forward and tenderly rubbed the himself against her throbbing clit. Carefully, he brushed himself up and down until she was drowning in her own storm. 

 

There were some questions he didn’t have to ask. He knew when her father was inaugurated that Rey was implanted with birth control. It was a precaution for the absolute worst. Still, she expressed butterflies and he knew this was probably her first time. The first time she was ever alone without a security guard and it was  _ with her security guard. _

 

He figured if he continued on, everything would be irreparable. 

 

Yet the glossy reflection of her pleading eyes, the shortness of her diminished breath, and the slick fever that seeped from her throbbing core convinced him otherwise. Guiding himself with one hand, Ben thrusted forward. With the help of the glazed sleekness her orgasm created, the tip of himself easily slipped into her and welcomed the warmth of her body. 

 

Her walls spasmed, clenching and releasing, desperately adjusting to his size. Simultaneously, they gasped and Ben collapsed onto her, the bridge of their noses kissing. 

 

Their eyes met and together—they dived into one another’s cluster of stars. 

 

“Rey.”

 

“Ben.”

 

“Are you okay?”

 

She readjusted, wrapping tremorring legs around his waist. 

 

“Let me know if I need to stop,” he muttered into her neck. With a hand flat against the headboard and the other underneath her, his hips started to rock into a gradual wave. 

 

“Don’t stop,” she whispered, her ankles locking and her fingers anchoring into his protruding shoulder-blades. 

 

Ben pulled her closer with each thrust. 

 

If this was wrong, why did it felt so fucking right? 

 

Sweat glued their skin together. 

 

His hair fell into his face and Rey used her fingers to tuck them back behind his ears. 

 

Rhythm quickened and breath grew short. The bed rattled beneath them and the slippery smack of their deed filled the room. Confidence oozed as their energy gnawed and swallowed them whole. Frantically, they muffled their vocalizations in fabric and flesh. She left love bites on his collarbone and he sucked until she was bruised, regardless of the risk.  

When Rey moaned, Ben hummed in subliminal harmony. 

 

Another secret. 

 

Impressions of her fingertips nor the shuddering of her body beneath him made him falter. His thrusts remained committed, fucking her throughout her trembling aftershocks.

 

“B—Ben,” Rey begged. 

 

The sound of his name on her lips strummed a chord and he spilled over, filling her to the brim with his warmth. 

 

⟵♡⟶

 

The sensation of the heated water calmed Rey. Another hotel room and another hotel lavatory that felt as distant from home as possible. That was the issue of luxurious or boutique lodging. They were always clean and lacked the imprint of existence. Years of traveling as the President’s daughter and now, weeks into a campaign tour, Rey was starting to get irked by satin sheets, bar soap, and room service. 

 

Tonight had been the first night she didn’t miss her own bed. 

 

“Turn,” he whispered. “I’ll get your back.” 

 

Rey nodded, obeying his request. 

 

Steam morphed everything into a foggy illusion as Rey drifted, her mind growing blank. Bubbles were collecting at their feet, coating the tiled floor in a layer of soapy water and as the showerhead ran, it grew warmer and warmer, the steam ascending and pouring over the glass door. 

 

There were no bedsheets to hide beneath; no darkness of the bedroom to coward into. The vanity lights were illuminated as she stood; perky and bare. 

 

Ben squeezed the loofa into her back and she shuddered, the dribble of soap trickling down her backside. Rey was worn from making love and with the aid of hot water and his neck kisses, falling asleep was going to be effortless. 

 

Her head lulled as his hands worked, massaging and rubbing the soap into places she couldn’t reach. Despite him unknowing, she smiled to herself as her eyes begun to bat close. 

 

A bottle squirted. 

 

“Are you feeling okay?” He asked. 

 

Rey nodded. 

 

Her hair was drenched and heavy beneath the water. An aroma of strawberry flourished in the shower as he laved her hair, combing his fingers through. At their toes, the water ran frothy from the copious amounts he used. 

 

“Everyone has to be at the airport early.” 

 

“Let’s not talk about the tour.”

 

Ben kissed her exposed shoulder. “What would you like to talk about?” 

 

Mindful of the slippery ceramic flooring, she turned to face him as Ben pulled his fingers from her hair. The soap ran down her ears and collected in the divots of her collarbones. They created pools of foamy water. 

 

_ How amazing that was,  _ she thought,  _ and how badly I wished we were in our own apartment with Ikea furniture and a dog and a coffee machine that sung when it was done brewing. Somewhere where no one could stop or destroy us.  _

 

“Let’s just enjoy this.”

 

⟵♡⟶

 

Someone knocked at the door.

 

Rey stirred. 

 

Another knock and she yawned. 

 

The following was more of a pounding snare drum than a friendly morning wake-up call. 

 

“Rey,” the voice called out. “We’re running late.”

 

Rattling noises of the door handle attempting to unlock was more codemning than the multiple snooze buttons she had slapped. Immediately, Rey pushed on her elbows and sat up in the bed. Her hair was in disarray and still moist in areas that had not dried throughout the night. The sheets were scattered about, she was completely nude, her suitcase was unpacked, and most tragically—she was alone. 

 

Her heart dropped into a freefall. 

 

Suddenly, the door pushed open and Rey screeched, hauling the duvet up to her chin. 

 

“I’m sorry to interrupt,” Amilyn assiduously apologized. “We’re running late. The president is already at the airport.” 

 

“I need to get dressed. I’ll be down shortly.” 

 

“No rush but please,” Amilyn looked more concerned about the status of her job than anything else. “Go a bit quicker than usual.” 

 

“I understand.” 

 

She watched Amilyn scurry back to the door and before it could fully close before her, her head had popped back in. “Oh, and Rey?”

 

“Yes?” She glanced over. She had been spacing out. 

 

“Your father wants to speak to you.” 

 

The door slammed shut and Rey collapsed on her back. She stared at the ceiling until tiny shadows of shapes begun to dance and twirl around. Had it not been for the strawberry scent mixed with alpine cologne distilled into her pillows, she would have considered it all to have been a dream.

 

⟵♡⟶

 

_ Ding!  _

 

The elevator doors open and Rey ambled off, her suitcase rolling behind her. 

 

She looked out of place, a rip in a canvas painting. The renown and luxurious hotel of the Windy City was far too posh, with marble pillars and pebbled waterfalls, for the The First Daughter of the United States. Her hair was jumbled and disheveled in a messy style, barely held together by an elastic band. She wasn’t wearing any make-up and she squeezed into whatever fresh dress she could find in the short time she had. 

 

Finn eyed her over. “Late night?”  

 

She shrugged. 

 

If it had been any other person, she would have jumped at the moment to tell Finn everything. Only this was entirely different. This had to be a secret kept from her best friend on the planet, even. 

 

She stopped breathing. 

 

The glass doors of the lobby’s entrance slid open and Agent Solo entered. He must have pulled the car up because behind him, the Tahoe was idling beneath the canopy. 

 

Rey was not focusing on that detail, though. Instead, she was admiring him head-to-toe. From the slick suit that firmly hugged his body to his darkened sunglasses and wired earpiece that hid in tidied, combed hair, he looked absolutely delicious—and prepared for the busy day ahead. 

 

It was his typical uniform, yet today it wore a new sense of flare. 

 

“Good morning,” he announced. His voice was hoarse, licked with a sense of strain. It was like the morning after a concert, when you sung too loud and desperately desired hot tea. 

 

“Good morning,” Rey eagerly responded. 

 

Even under the sunglasses, she could tell he was staring at her. 

 

She stared back.

 

He continued to stare. 

 

The silence grew too comfortable and he gestured to her feet. “Can I take your suitcase?”

 

“Oh,” she stammered. “Uh—Yeah? Sure.” 

 

The exchange was awkward and embarrassing. Suddenly, simple tasks were tense to operate. They were putting way too much thought into something as casual as passing over a suitcase. 

 

Their fingers grazed one another and both pretended not to mind or care.

 

Only to Rey, it absolutely was not normal. 

 

She was still basking in the afterglow of their previous night together. The circumstances stole her of breakfast in bed and Netflix binges all day between second, third, and fourth rounds of their love. Instead, she was propelled into a world that required her awake before the chirping birds and the rising sun. Instead, the dynamic from her lover to her security guard had settled back down.

 

She faltered, her bottom-lip releasing a small tremor.

 

He should have noticed, even beneath the curtain of his frames.

 

⟵♡⟶

 

“Scavenger is on the tarmac with the Duchess and the Eagle.”

 

“Copy,” a voice returned into the earpiece.

 

His shoulders stiffened. There were way too many people today and he did not like how close they were getting to Rey, let alone the president. Their cameras were flashing and blinding to those unfortunate enough to be on the opposing side.

 

Behind the opaque sunglasses he wore, Ben could inconspicuously and fully devour her.

 

Rey was wearing a navy dress with a plunging neckline. He could even detail the same freckle he tenderly kissed the night before.

 

_ Not now, _ he warned himself.

 

After their late night shower, Rey was exhausted and fell into slumber practically the moment her head hit the pillow. Ben stayed for as long as he could, lying with her and watching her tremor in her sleep. She must have been dreaming because every so often, her eyes moved behind her lids and her lips made inaudible smacking noises.

 

Before it got too early in the morning, he planted a small kiss and slipped from the room. He hardly even made it to his own without being noticed. He figured if he got caught, he could just say he had gone for coffee but the shop was closed, or that he had to make a phone call. He’d even lie and say he desperately needed a cigarette if it made it more believable.

 

The only thing going for Ben was that he knew the schedule of the other agents and their routes.

 

It was what ensured a successful getaway.

 

Yet, even now, they were surrounded by enforcement officers, eyeballing citizens, questioning reporters, and her father—who would see his head roll from his own body if he knew.

 

In a way, it made the whole thing fun.

 

He was sure Rey felt empowered by their little secret too.

 

That’s all it was, right? A little, itty-bitty, tiny, harmless secret?

 

She waved and smiled at the crowd as Ben stood nearby, observing and protecting her—both acting as if he had not fucked her dizzy the evening before.

 

 

⟵♡⟶

 

“There’s going to be a gala,” he begun.

 

Rey huffed, interrupting. “No way. I told you I was done with that.”

 

“This one will be different,” her father linked their arms. They walked side-by-side towards Air Force One. “I want you to speak at it.”

 

“Me? A public speaker?” She forced a sarcastic laugh. “You put too much faith into me.”

 

“I put enough for you to go on this expensive campus tour,” he reminded.

 

“The one that’s making national headlines and has garnered enough donations to already pay for itself,” Rey questioned. “That one?”

 

He smiled at his feet.

 

She wasn’t even exaggerating.

 

The college campus tour had become a gigantic success. Every single stop was full of reservations, some students even sat on waiting lists or entered lotteries for passes. Rey had become one of the top followed accounts on Twitter in under a week. Wherever they traveled, the cameras followed. Merchandise was sold out on the website. The NRA had seen a drop in renewal memberships for the first time that year. As it turned out, America enjoyed hearing about the movements of a professional First Daughter as they ate their dinners at night. It was a breath of fresh air from singing competitions and reality shows. It brought them comfort and indirectly, it heightened the approval rating of her father and significantly helped him out in terms of his re-election.

 

Even though Snoke was winning the southern states, he was bringing out a brand new demographic of fresh voters.

 

“We could also celebrate your college acceptances.”

 

Rey froze and he followed suit, coming to a more gentler stop. Beside them, the security continued up the staircase that led onto the plane. In her peripheral, she could see Agent Solo linger before convoying the rest of the team. He must have been eavesdropping.

 

Her eyes remained locked on her father.  _ Would he be disappointed? _

__

A million things ran through her mind. They kept too many secrets from one another and this was any other. She couldn't even tell her father that she knew about Leia or him giving the assignment to Ben as an act of assistance. His confidence would be destroyed if he knew what they did. Nothing, not even a hint, could be uttered. 

 

Rey was not stupid and she knew her father was a very, very smart man. 

 

“I got a call from the White House.”

 

“How did you know I applied?”

 

“I have birdies everywhere,” he shrugged. “I didn’t open them yet, if you were wondering. However, I can imagine no one would say no to the youngest active politician in American history.”

 

“Now you’re exaggerating.”

 

He shrugged. “Am I?”

 

Her eyes followed her father’s every move. He flashed that same smile that stung like childhood. The one that tasted like hot cocoa and smelled like burnt firewood. He could have been wearing that worn and rustic flannel when he did it, even if he was dressed in an expensive suit with an enamel pin of the American flag instead. Even if he belonged to the world now, not just her.

 

All these years, Rey had been fighting the inevitable rather than embracing it. Had she played along in the game, maybe she would have realized that she never, not once, actually lost her father.

 

He brought two fingers to his forehead and saluted the soldiers that awaited at the foundation of Air Force One’s staircase.

 

> _ It’s always a performance. Her mom’s voice whispered. Her fingers fumbled through her hair, pulling them into a red barretts. The silent hum of an engine stitched her voice together. Show me again before you do it for daddy. _

 

Rey raised her right hand to her browline, mirroring the Eagle.

 

⟵♡⟶

 

Air Force One was buzzing with action. Something must have happened internationally, because her father was being briefed by a swarm of nicely-dressed assistants by the time she had boarded the flight. 

 

A flight attendant offered her a drink and she politely declined. 

 

Rey wandered down the hallway, heading towards the back of the flight. She passed Finn and Poe, who were in the middle of an intense card game. She passed Amilyn, who was on the phone with the next University. She passed agents and crew members and strangers, too. 

 

A hand snaked beneath her forearm, yanking her into a tight compartment. The door closed just as quickly as it opened, darkening the room. 

 

“What the—?” 

 

“Quiet, quiet.” He hushed her hastily. “It’s just me.”

 

Rey’s eyes adjusted to the lighting. The office space was tiny and more for storage than anything. A single window panel was half-open, filling the space with just another light to see one another. She was practically on top of him as he leaned against a desk. 

 

He reached around her, locking the door before he forgot. 

 

“How did I do?” He asked. 

 

“Too good,” she closed her fist, hitting his chest. 

 

“I had to make it seem realistic.” 

 

“Still,” she pouted. “It was different before.” 

 

In the hallway, somebody walked by. They were on the phone and talking loudly, the shadows of their movements crept beneath the doorframe. Ben and Rey lowered into a hushed silence, waiting until their footsteps completely disappeared before speaking again. 

 

“It can be the same,” he whispered. 

 

They were dangerously close again. The bridge of his nose was practically touching hers. 

 

“How?” Her voice was just as low. 

 

“I’ll still bring you coffee. You can still annoy me.” 

 

“And?”

 

“And…” He leaned forward, closing the space that remained between them. He pressed his lips against her own and everything seeped into a boiling warmth again. She could feel his fingers digging into her back, his tongue in the most wondrous of places. “...this.” 

 

An engine accelerated as the aircraft sped on the runway. It lifted from the ground and their knees buckled. Rey fell onto him, their hips colliding. Immediately, Ben reunited their dwindling kiss. There was no sense of doubt or accountability. 

 

Despite that, she returned the embrace, even deepening it. 

 

His fingers knotted in her hair. 

 

They aggressively pushed one another, feeding off the adrenaline of it all. Somewhere in the chaos, they had swung around. Ben lifted her up, sliding her across the desk. 

 

Objects fell to the ground, concealed from the plane roaring to their ascent. 

 

Their eyes met in a broken kiss, full of exasperated breathing and internal butterflies. 

 

His hair was in his face. 

 

“Are we really doing this?” 

 

Her fingers wrapped around his tie, tugging him forward. “Quickly.” 

 

And Ben obeyed. 


	12. The Flea

Chapter Twelve

The Flea 

⟵♡⟶

 

Bulbs outlining the vanity twinkled, illuminating a contusion forming in the pool of her collarbone. The mark was lightly faded in a purple hue yet stitched together by small speckles of blue and yellow. If she tilted her head to one side, it almost replicated the shape of Ireland. 

 

Rey gently pressed her foundation brush against the mark, running the bristles in a cross-hatch until the mark was completely covered in a layer that matched her skin tone. She pressed her hips to the granite counter, examining the love bite from different angles. Until she was satisfied with the concealment and ensured the hickey was utterly erased from a glance, she moved onto last minute adjustments to her hair and another application of mascara to her eyelashes. 

 

“You’re so beautiful.”

 

In the reflection of the mirror, their smiles echoed the other. 

 

“Thank you,” Rey mumbled as a small kiss of pink crossed her cheekbones. She fumbled with her cosmetics bag in an attempt to ignore his approaching steps or the small movements made in the glass.

 

The moment his fingers grazed her skin—surprisingly cold to the touch—she froze. They moved slowly, slipping across her abdomen before interlocking with the other hand. He pressed himself against her, pushing her hips even firmer against the lavatory’s counter. Rey watched him the mirror and followed the silence with a quiet release of tension.

 

He begun to kiss her neck. 

 

“I thought I told you no marks.”

 

“It was an accident,” he whispered. He grazed a touch over the presumed location. “You covered it well, I would never be able to tell if I wasn’t the one that put it there.” 

 

“I know—“ Her jaw dropped momentarily, summoned to a breath of silence at the feeling of his tongue stretching the length of her neck to her ear. “I—I know, I get carried away too.” 

 

“You still smell like the strawberry shampoo.” 

 

Rey bit her bottom lip. 

 

“You taste good too,” his teeth pressed against the space behind her earlobe, condemning Rey to melt entirely into him. Her grip on the granite loosened as she sunk further into his tender embrace. Her chin raised to the ceiling as her head rested to his shoulder. He could do whatever the hell he wanted. Rey did not mind at all. Not even as Ben’s fingers dwindled with her belt buckle with no second thought or care for the risk. “You don’t have to be at the restaurant for another forty minutes.”

 

“How far away is it?” Rey closed her eyes, her mouth agape. 

 

“Fifteen minutes away,” He replied. The buckle came loose and his fingers trudged forward, working their way towards the buttons of her jeans instead—furthering the venture until the apex of his touch could meet the lace of her underwear.

 

“Don’t mess up my hair.”

 

His hand squeezed her shoulder, guiding her to lean on the counter completely as he worked on his own belt buckle. Rey watched him in the mirror and he stopped for a moment, enough to flash her a small half-smile. It was the gentle kind—the smile when his teeth barely peeked from his lips, just enough for a lovingly speck of innocence all the same.

 

“Anything for you,” Ben promised. 

 

⟵♡⟶

 

Sunset was brewing.

 

The pink champagne clouds melted into a serene navy. They squeezed a hug into blue hour until, finally, it spilled over the cityscape and swallowed the region whole. A blinding light cascaded through the protruding architecture and then—utter darkness. 

 

When the tour first begun, spirits were low yet wisdom held high. 

 

Amilyn had been the most optimistic. After all, it was her job to keep the seams from splitting. Whereas everyone was comfortable with disappointment, she would not kinder to the thought. 

 

> _“Hope is like the sun,”_ she had whispered. Her voice was low but it carried. Everyone’s heads were hung and in deep thought. _“If you only believed in it when you could see it…”_
> 
>  
> 
> _“You’d never make it through the night,”_ Poe had interrupted. 

 

Hope. 

 

The essence of that overused and mildewed word. 

 

The intangible definition of  _hope_ was entirely Rey’s dilemma. 

 

Her father was the walking manifestation of it, if there ever was one. Her little cross country adventure had quickly morphed into a successful presidential endeavor. Despite that, the headlines and the ticking clock to November kept her from breathing properly.

 

Anxiety crept in at the worst of times. Right before interviews with television hosts or during endless selfies with college students. It was never-ending and it was only the beginning. 

 

There was a time when she couldn’t care less about the election’s forecast. Now the fangs of that flea sunk into her flesh every chance it got. 

 

She wanted nothing more than her father to win another four years and she wanted nothing more than to work by his side and shadow his success. 

 

“I like your sweatshirt.” 

 

Rey was distracted by her phone and incapable of a response more meaningful than an inquisitive hum. The duration of the day was catching up to her as she felt her energy dwindle to a low. 

 

Before the sun had even rose, the team had been awake and two cups of coffee deep into their agenda. The moments spent in her hotel before dinner were interrupted by Ben and his wandering kisses. Not that she minded. 

 

Her fingers swiped through notifications. Her eyes frantically scanned her newsfeed for anything remotely related to the day’s campaign stop.

 

“The color looks good on you.” 

 

This time, Rey nodded. She even flashed a quick smile. 

 

Usually that was satisfying enough for her father. If Rey acted disinterested, he would likely forfeit the chance of a meaningful conversation. However, he was obdurately persistent tonight. 

 

Rey and her father were eating at a luxurious sushi restaurant on the outskirts of the city. It was not a shoebox cafe like the buffets on the East coast. Instead, _Matsuhisa_ was modern with dimly lit chandeliers and koi-ponds. The pebbled walls were coated in a slick of running water from a fountain and the burbling splatter matched the harmony of a quiet pianist in the corner. The private room was closed off for their visit, giving them complete privacy from the remaining restaurant that bustled outside—completely unaware that the President of the United States was dining just next door. 

 

It was the first occasion on the campaign tour that Rey and her father could have a moment. Usually they spoke in passing or had a quick bite while pouring over folders of paperwork or answering international phone calls. 

 

Yet tonight, President Kenobi asked his supervisors to give them peace and only interrupt if it was an absolute emergency or society was on the brink of a zombie apocalypse.

 

Finn and Poe were exploring Seattle and Rey’s mother had already flown back to the district. She was a key speaker at a non-profit event for women’s health that was long promised. Despite the schedule of the tour, she felt obligated to keep her word. After all, the volunteers and spectators of the event were _even more_ potential voters. With the First Lady working that event, she was also inconspicuously aiding to the impending election.

 

Her mother had been excited for the event. In the early morning, she had knocked on Rey’s door while the stylists were preparing for the campaign stop. Busy days and stubbornness neglected their ability to address the disastrous night at the Italian restaurant back in Capitol Hill. Despite this, she seemed genuinely excited and sincere when she asked for her daughter’s last minute adjustments and suggestions on her speech.

 

> _“This part is great, mom.”_
> 
>  
> 
> Rey’s hair was pinned and someone helped a water bottle with a straw for her to sip. Nonetheless, she had flipped through the pages and read over the words endlessly. 
> 
>  
> 
> _“You think?”_ Her mother questioned. She had been pacing in the reflection of the vanity. _“You can be honest.”_
> 
>  
> 
> _“When aren’t I?”_
> 
>  
> 
> Her words echoed their previous argument and as their eyes met—they simultaneously exploded into a fit of shared laughter. The moment of bliss with her mom and the slow repair of a failing relationship had already brightened Rey’s day.
> 
>  
> 
> It had probably helped her mom, too. 

 

“I apologize,” her father commented. 

 

“For what?” 

 

They equally spent the day at their own events. Rey and her father—always a reflective mirror of the other. Despite that, a _Scavenger_ could never become an _Eagle_. 

 

The margin between now and election day was getting significantly smaller and with each passing day, the sun would set a little earlier. An approaching autumn could be felt in the mountains, which is why she had worn the sweatshirt out for their dinner.

 

Expecting a casual dining at a local pizza shop, the expensive asian cuisine was a surprise. Rey—undressed and craving greasy cheese—left a plate of wasabi peppered salmon untouched on the table. 

 

“I’ve just been so busy. It is unacceptable.”

 

“It’s all right, dad. I’m used to sharing you with the world.” 

 

Rey paused her swiping. 

 

The familiarity of speckled, broken water balloons painting the grass rainbow had caught her eye. She immediately clicked on the article and awaited it to entirely load. 

 

Kashyyyk University was located in the ranges of Washington. 

 

Amilyn decided to do things radically different. Instead of a secluded and private session with a few fortuitous students, the entire university was capable of attending. 

 

The Rocky Mountains, ferocious and monumental and littered in snow-caps, protruded the skyline. In the valley, everyone gathered in the artificial fields for celebration.

 

It was quite a scene. 

 

Food trucks emitted their grease and guzz along the curb while students threw frisbees or played hamster-ball soccer. Clubs and organizations rallied with tabletop displays, an art class painted faces, and some local bands performed. 

 

The security required for an event that large? Ben damn near had an aneurysm. 

 

Poe focused on smaller interviews with student papers.

 

Finn tasted all the food. 

 

And Rey, in her Kashyyyk football jersey donning the name **KENOBI** in university lettering, her cheeks smudged by eye black paint, delivered articulated and prepared answers for every single news station that caravanned over before the event could even become the highest trending topic. 

 

The page loaded and she smiled to herself. 

 

In the photograph, she was getting a piggyback ride from Ben. Her knees were covered in dried blood and grass-stains, the typical accessory to a friendly game of kickball. 

 

She saved the photo to her phone so she could show him later.

 

He would probably sneak into her room later tonight. 

 

It was their first photo together and they looked more like best friends than a professional working relationship. 

 

“I have just been _so_ entirely burdened by my job,” he placed his fork down and it clattered against the polished china. “That I never realized my own daughter completed training for the Marine Corps in Parris Island.”

 

Rey’s face must have displayed her confusion. To further explain, he gestured across the table at her. She glanced down, her chin touching her chest. Realization settled prematurely like snow on rustic October leaves. 

 

“This isn’t mine.”

 

“Oh, really?” His voice flared in sarcasm. He was wearing a smug expression, pleased with himself as he taunted his only daughter. 

 

It was the sweatshirt Ben had brought her in West Virginia when she shivered by the bonfire. He never bothered to ask for it back and he knowingly knew she slept in it. The lettering was starting to peel, the black was fading, and some holes communicated that it had been wholly worn.

 

It was also, _like_ , three sizes too big. 

 

Regardless, Ben’s scent burnt the fabric like someone who smoked too many cigarettes.

 

“I got it at a thrift shop in the East Village.” 

 

His eyebrows raised into his brown hair. “I see.”

 

_He knows. He knows everything._

 

Her eyes nervously flickered to the corner of the room. 

 

In the corridor that led to the main dining hall, a group of security guards were all sharing a small conversation. Ben was among them, in the middle of listening to someone else tell a story. 

 

Instinctively, he glanced into her direction and their eyes met. 

 

He smiled and Rey melted into that gaze that could only belong to a lover. 

 

There was a silent understanding between them. He was no longer the bodyguard that protected her from the inevitable disaster. Instead, he could make her wither beneath like no one else. 

 

Before the summer, Rey could not comprehend ever even going on a date. 

 

Yet, their rendezvous on Air Force One and in her hotel that evening was only the beginning of a continuous game. She had sunk into her cushion and watched the clouds swim by, wholeheartedly satisfied with his ability to make her see the stars in the daytime. Now, every single night a quiet knock would echo at her door. She’d let him in quickly and the night belonged to them—entangled in bedsheets of a different city and silencing the pleas of the other with sloppy kisses.

 

His touch still seethed where it previously lingered as she returned the smile, inconspicuously, before her father could notice.

 

“So, we only have a week of the tour left.” 

 

“We do.”

 

He pulled out a notepad. Rey felt a wave of relief. 

 

“We need to start strategizing our plan for autumn.”

 

“Don’t you have, like…” she gestured with her hands. He seemed genuinely bewildered. “...Professionals, financial advisors, or elected cabinet members for this?”

 

Her father shrugged, “They’re all vampires.” 

 

Rey’s mouth dropped. 

 

She felt it start in her gut before it climbed her throat, begging for release, and then she did, laughing wholesome and loud. Her dad started with a smile and then joined in, stifling his own chuckle.

 

This moment— _right_ _here_. 

 

Rey wanted nothing more than to bask in it for a little while longer. 

 

It was the fleeting moments in the past four years when they could remind one another that they were still best buds. When Obi-Wan could cherish his daughter a little while longer and Rey could love her father without ever admitting it. 

 

He pushed the back of his pen into the table, releasing the tip. 

 

“Let’s see,” he tapped it on the table. “What does my trustee advisor have to offer?” 

 

The moment floated away like every other time. 

 

“Voting registration ends soon. Maybe one last hooray? A festival or concert?” 

 

He jotted the idea down. “We could get some big names on that. I was just endorsed by Chance the Rapper.”

 

Rey giggled, once more. 

 

Her father froze as he wrote, glancing at her with a suspicious smile. “What?”

 

“Nothing,” she waved her hands over her face, coming down from the sudden fit. “It’s funny to hear you say _Chance the Rapper._ ” 

 

“I’m not _that_ old.” 

 

Rey smiled once more at her father. This was perfect. This was normal. “You could also invite local groups or school organizations that are rallying in different communities,” she offered. “To show your gratitude.” 

 

“I like that idea, Rey. Your mother is coordinating fundraisers for a few charities. She will be doing a lot of traveling for the next month. I will definitely need you by my side.” 

 

They shared yet another smile before he started rigorously taking notes and flipping through his planner. Rey noticed a highlighted weekend for the impending gala he had merely mentioned. 

 

“Dad?” 

 

He hummed. 

 

“Why did you invite me to the gala?” 

 

“I think you’ve been making a lot of improvement and you have earned your invitation.” 

 

His tone said it all. 

 

Rey and her father hardly had conversations about the personal opinions that surrounded them. She knew what he meant with his choice of words and the way he dictated them off his tongue. A lot of people were talking—and a lot of what they had to say about her was nasty. Rey was maturing and people were now listening. 

 

She had earned that invitation because she was probably invited without her father even needing to stick his neck out.

 

“I won’t disappoint you, dad.”

 

“You could never. I’m so pr—“ 

 

_“Sir,”_ an aide rushed up from behind him. “I’m sorry to interrupt but you need to see this.”

 

⟵♡⟶

 

It happened more often than not. 

 

As the daughter of the President, you had to be prepared for reporters in every single direction. This trained Rey into a routine of always looking camera ready.

 

Of course the one night she settles on her booty call’s sweatshirt, they are surrounding the restaurant she dines at.

 

Usually a waitress tips off the media for an extra buck, or a photo goes viral on social media. It was always the same story and became an expectation. No hard feelings—it was a known struggle that came with the position.

 

This though? _This was different._

 

Ben consumed the role of Agent Solo.

 

He ushered them through the crowd to the car and immediately on sight of her, they were surrounded. Reporters flung themselves over one another, their microphones reaching through from extensions of just their arms. Rey dodged their swings and with a cupped hand, desperately covered her eyes from the blinding flashes from their cameras.

 

She was the distraction for the President to slip out the back.

 

Like a rolling tide, the crowd swallowed her whole. Her hand escaped Ben’s grip and all she could sense was his frantic—yet assertive—shouts of her name coming from somewhere distant.

 

Panic sunk in.

 

She could hear the uniformed voices of the secret service making their move—yet the questions from reporters and journalists were more profound and beckoned her attention.

 

The shouting melted into a deafening ring—bellowing itself through her thoughts and blinding her from making a sound decision. She felt her knees buckle, her tears start to beckon, tempted by the idea of surrendering to the asphalt beneath her stumbling steps. The crowd squeezed tighter and tighter, the flashes of their cameras blanketing her sight in a sheet of white.

 

The snow looked like Vermont.

  

> _Her father was crying by the fireplace._
> 
>  
> 
> _He was so sad. She had never seen him shed a tear before... let alone sob to the point he tried to silence it._
> 
>  
> 
> _“Daddy?”_
> 
>  
> 
> _He sniffled. His back straightened. He wiped his eye._
> 
>  
> 
> _“Its late, little dove. Go back to sleep.”_
> 
>  
> 
> _“Are you okay?” She took a step forward, placing a hand on his thigh. He was shaking._
> 
>  
> 
> _“I’m okay.”_
> 
>  
> 
> _“You’re sad.”_
> 
>  
> 
> _“Daddy lost a good friend but I’m okay.”_
> 
>  
> 
> _“Lost?”_
> 
>  
> 
> _“They passed away.”_
> 
>  
> 
> _The television set reflected, flickering images across her adolescent face. She could only read a little but the smile of the woman was hard to forget. The words stung._
> 
>  
> 
> _Empire claims responsibility for terrorist attack in Germany._
> 
>  
> 
> _“Come on,” he scooped her into his arms before standing. “Let me tuck you back in.”_

 

A stranger’s hand grasped her wrist and despite her aggressive yanking—they refused to let go.

 

She could feel her exhales coming up on far less inhales.

 

The individual screamed over the rest.

 

_Do you plan on responding to Snoke’s criticism?_

 

Rey opened her mouth to shout, but nothing came out. She begged them to let go. Yet it went unheard in the chaotic swarm. The adrenaline of the suffocating crowd persuaded people towards recklessness as she felt herself on the brink of the danger she was promised to be protected from. With bated breath, the panic crept from every corner and the margins of her sight started to darken. It pealed and plucked away, taking more and more of her capability from her. 

 

The grip on her wrist suddenly released and as Rey whipped around, just catching the moment herself. Ben’s arm wound up as he spun, his fist punching across the jaw. A splinter of bone crackled through the air and the man fell to his knees, coughing for recovery. Rey covered her mouth with a cupped hand, concealing the expression that slowly crept itself from her lips. 

 

Silence swept through like a hurdling wave.

 

She gawked but it wasn’t for long. Agents rushed the scene and the circle was shoved further and further back. The questions and shouting continued as the individual groaned on the ground—whimpering and cradling their face.

 

A hand locked on Rey’s wrist once more but she didn’t mind—she knew that familiar touch. It rushed her to safety, to the car that awaited them. His face was flushed. He was panting. His bangs were in his eyes. He had easily towered over that man, staring him down and making him wish he was sorry.

 

“We’ve got this,” another agent advised as they hurried away.

 

The door slammed shut.

 

Rey watched his every move as he circled the vehicle and shouted at the other agents. He pulled on his tie, readjusting it as if it was not splattered in blood from another’s nose. He jumped into the driver’s seat and as they sped off, police sirens and lights went in the opposing direction to the restaurant.

 

She took a deep breath.

 

His grip on the wheel was tight, and through the partition, she could get a better look at him. Her eyes longed, detailing over. His ears were red, sticking out from disarrayed hair and he was biting his bottom lip. He took a hard turn and she grasped the door handle.

 

“Ben.”

 

“I’m calm.”

 

“It’s okay.”

 

“He was hurting you.”

 

“I’m okay.”

 

“I don’t want them to come that close to you.”

 

“Don’t worry, it was an accident.”

 

“I wasn’t paying attention tonight. I need to remain level-headed. I should have called the local enforcement before taking you to your car.” 

 

“We were in a rush. My dad needed to get out quick.”

 

“Your safety is more important to me than your dad’s schedule.”

 

Rey fell into silence. 

 

“My priority is you.”

 

He turned into the parking lot of the hotel. The brake was a bit too short and Rey held the seat in front of her from smacking into it—much like the night they had first argued. The parking lot was quiet and no one was walking around. 

 

The car remained parked and they sat in silence for a few moments.

 

He was chasing his thoughts. Rey could always tell when he did that. 

 

He spoke quietly to himself. “They should know they cannot touch you like that. I could have him put in prison for the rest of his life. Or have his entire existence deleted from every database, his relatives never asking about him again, his social security number sold on the dark web—gone.”

 

Rey unbuckled her seatbelt. 

 

She crawled forward, pushing her upper body through the partition. Before he could protest, her lips were against his cheek. The kiss was tender and long. It took  its time to part, filling the car in a smacking noise. 

He melted beneath it, quieting down. His grip released. 

 

“Thank you for helping me.”

 

“I should not have punched him. There were cameras everywhere.”

 

“Exactly, there were cameras everywhere and anyone who watches will know that he was touching me.”

 

Ben felt his shoulders release built-up tension. He sighed, falling further into his seat. 

 

Her kisses became more dedicated, yet sloppy at the same time. They went from his cheek, to his ear, to his neck, and finally—her hand pushed his face to better meet her own and they landed on his lips. 

 

Rey mumbled against them. “That was so fucking hot.”

 

Their kiss departed and Ben stared—dedicated and hard. 

 

It was like any other moment, when their lips were dangerously close and the words were already said. There was nothing more to do but to commit. 

 

And Ben did just that. 

 

His seatbelt was undone and before he could weigh the accountability of it all, he was crawling into the backseat and pushing his weight onto the only thing that mattered in his life. 

 

And Rey was no better than him. 

 

Pulling him closer, her hips canted and pleaded for more as she helped him with his belt. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I apologize this update took so long. I went to Disney World last week for my 22nd birthday & have been traveling through Europe since then. Please don't hate me! ♡
> 
> Also, once again - this is the first book of a two book series. The sequel will be called "Dove and an Eagle" and will be uploaded when this one is done. It is necessary. We can never have too much Agent Solo.


	13. Even the Mighty Rome Fell

**Chapter Thirteen**

Even the Mighty Rome Fell

⟵♡⟶

 

“We should  _ really _ go upstairs.” 

 

His voice rung with concern, yet his movements translated differently.

 

“Probably,” Rey admitted as she shimmied down her jeans, trying to maneuver as best as possible in the small vicinity of the vehicle’s backseat. “Are the doors locked?”

 

Ben’s ears perked at the realization. 

 

As she continued to tussle with her clothing, he quickly reached over her head and yanked on the door’s handle. It didn’t budge and he aggressively and obsessively pressed the locking mechanism a few more times for good measure before finally settling down. A wave of relief struck his face and Rey smirked in acknowledgment—her ankle kicking her underwear free.  

 

“How do you want me?” She asked. 

 

“How do you want  _ me _ ?” Ben reciprocated. 

 

“Lie down.”

 

He raised an eyebrow at that. 

 

_ “I said lie down, Agent Solo.” _

 

Ben obeyed, a wondrous smile growing on his cheeks. 

 

The adjustment wasn’t at all romantic but they made it work. Firmly, he laid his back onto the leather seat and watched as Rey made the best out of it. With her knees perked on each side of his torso, and her hands anchored on his shoulders, she slowly lowered herself down onto him.

 

With the help of his free hand and the slickness she seethed during their wrestle into the backseat, he easily slipped right in.

 

Rey sighed; her head tilted back. She released all the built up stress, anxiety, and burden of her life into the sensation. 

 

Slowly, she sunk further and further until she rested on his body completely and all she could remember thinking was:  _ I could stay right here forever.  _ And all Ben could do was grunt and wither beneath, feeling absolutely nothing but the Earth rotate  _ for _ them as Rey readjusted and acclimated to accept his familiar and welcomed size.

 

“Let me see your hand,” Rey whispered. 

 

She remained still, just enjoying the comfort of them as one. 

 

Ben extended the one that was secretly aching; equally hoping she would not ask about it. He laid patiently, watching her turn it over in her own palms as she examined the formation of a bruise. 

 

“You need some frozen veggies.” 

 

“Some frozen veggies?” He repeated, a cheeky smile appearing. “I’ll be okay. I’ve hit harder before."

 

Rey raised an eyebrow. “Keeping secrets?”

 

“Never,” he insisted. “We share them all.” 

 

He admired as she planted kisses from his knuckles to the apex of each and every single finger and to his much welcomed surprise—the dull agony melted into a numb whisper. All he could sensitize was her chapped lips. 

 

“Baby?”

 

Rey hummed, continuing her voyage. 

 

“What would you do if someone found out about us?”

 

She froze and immediately, her affection recoiled. Before she could jump off of him, he bent at the waist while simultaneously snaking his arms around her back—squeezing until she 

surrendered in his arms. 

 

Her chin rested in the nook of his neck, his exhales releasing gentle wisps against her ears and wind-swept curls. 

 

“If your parents knew you were aware of who I really was—who my mother was and the friendship she had with your father,” he took a moment to gather himself before continuing, a small part of him appreciating her ability not to interrupt—as if she already knew what he was going to say. “Do you think they’d accept us?” 

 

“Ben.” 

 

He cupped her face, “Rey.” 

 

She shook her head, trying to break his siege. 

 

“Baby, look at me.” 

 

His hands squished harder, breaking the rattle and forcing their gazes to meet. 

 

“Rey, please look at me.”

 

She surrendered. The moment their eyes swam in one another, she was under his spell. 

 

“You don’t have to answer right now.” 

 

He seemed sad—yet auspicious. 

 

“I don’t know what you want me to say,” her voice was surprised. It stirred in a loud commotion of irrational fears instead of the optimistic chance of a happy ending. 

 

He pressed his forehead against her own, his eyes slowly shutting. 

 

“All I know is I like this,” she added, her hands cupping his own. “And I don’t want it to end.”

 

“I only want what’s best for you.” 

 

“You,” she closed the vacancy between them, planting a tender kiss. “You are what’s best for me.”

 

“Rey Kenobi,” he raised his chin. In the dim light of a far-off street lamp, his eyes reflected a glimmer. “I’m in love with you.”

 

“I’m in love with you too, Ben Solo.” 

 

Not at all and then all at once—they collided. 

 

Rey begun to move her hips, grinding herself into him as their lips desperately made up for lost time. Each kiss was sloppy and, as the moment grew in adrenaline and their hips rocked together in a perpetual hurdling wave, they fell  _ harder _ off each other’s cadence. With his bruised hand imprinting on the small of her back, Ben felt euphoric and only wanted her closer. 

 

⟵♡⟶

 

> _ “Daddy?” She whispered.“Mommy?”  _
> 
>  
> 
> _ Her voice echoed down the corridor.  _
> 
>  
> 
> _ Inauguration had been that morning, it was the family’s first night in the White House and Rey was lost. She tiptoed silently in her slippers, passing by locked doors, puzzling hallways and staircases, questionable statues and patriotic paintings. She could have sworn the eyes of the previous presidents were following her as she crept.  _
> 
>  
> 
> _ “Anyone?” She whispered again, much louder this time. _
> 
>  
> 
> _ Down the hallway, she could hear a scurry of feet and an argument taking place between two strangers. She bolted for the nearest door, stumbling in and closing it quickly behind herself.  _
> 
>  
> 
> _ She huffed and puffed, calming herself down from the spook.  _
> 
>  
> 
> _ It would take her a while to get used to strangers in her four walls.  _
> 
>  
> 
> _ She waddled across the rugged carpet and eyed the contents of the circular room.  _
> 
>  
> 
> _ The desk was what seized her steps. It was so polished and mesmerizing, and to this day she could remember the scent—like a new coat of lemon wax.  _
> 
>  
> 
> _ Using all her strength, she wedged her elbows in the right places and lifted herself into the cushioned seat. It sunk beneath her and she kicked her legs freely. She glanced around the room and patted her fingers on the desk, drumming quietly.  _
> 
>  
> 
> _ Suddenly, the door opened and she froze—almost trying to blend in with the surroundings of the room and the curtains that draped a moonlit window behind her.  _
> 
>  
> 
> _ “There you are.”  _
> 
>  
> 
> _ She relaxed at the sight of her father. “I couldn’t sleep,” she quickly announced.  _
> 
>  
> 
> _ “Couldn’t sleep?” He meandered into the room, his eyes wandering the wallpaper and the decorative touches that had been made over the years. He leaned against the armrest of a nearby sofa.  _
> 
>  
> 
> _ “This house is haunted.”  _
> 
>  
> 
> _ “Haunted?” He released a chuckle at that.  _
> 
>  
> 
> _ She was so young, so innocent—intelligent for her age yet naive all the same. The lightheartedness of her comment was far too sincere. The White House was haunted, but not by ghouls or monsters, rather by guilt, culpability, and disgrace.  _
> 
>  
> 
> _ “I want to go back home.” _
> 
>  
> 
> _ “This is our home now. You’ll grow used to it.” _
> 
>  
> 
> _ “How long do we have to stay?” _
> 
>  
> 
> _ “Four years, at least,” he digested the question further, “hopefully eight.”  _
> 
>  
> 
> _ “Eight years?” _
> 
>  
> 
> _ His smile grew. “You’ll be in college by then. Off doing your own big things.”   _
> 
>  
> 
> _ Her face contorted. “What if I don’t want to go to college?”  _
> 
>  
> 
> _ “You can do whatever you want. As long as you’re happy.”  _
> 
>  
> 
> _ “You wouldn’t be angry?”  _
> 
>  
> 
> _ “Of course not,” he had promised. “Your mother may have a few things to say, but she’d be  _
> 
> _ accepting of your decisions eventually.”  _
> 
>  
> 
> _ Rey smiled.  _
> 
>  
> 
> _ He smiled, too.  _
> 
>  
> 
> _ “Come on,” he nodded towards the door. “Let me tuck you in.”  _
> 
>  
> 
> _ “You don’t have to,” she stood quickly, her hands flat on the Resolute Desk. “I’m not a kid anymore.”  _
> 
>  
> 
> _ He took a moment to render the view of his only daughter standing there, a sly smile on her face and her hair knotted into three messy buns. Any other father would have frowned, yet Obi-Wan  _
> 
> _ Kenobi’s smile grew even wider.  _
> 
>  
> 
> _ “Well, at the very least, let me walk with you.” _
> 
>  
> 
> _ His eyes followed Rey as she wandered around the desk and followed her to the door. He held it open, taking one last glance at the Oval Office before continuing back to the living quarters.  _
> 
>   
>    
> 
> 
> _ “What do you think haunts the White House?” _
> 
>  
> 
> _ Rey hummed, thinking about it as they passed portraits that covered the entire height of the wall.  _
> 
>  
> 
> _ “Dead presidents.”  _
> 
>  
> 
> _ “Dead presidents?” _
> 
>  
> 
> _ Rey nodded. “Dead presidents.”  _

 

The earth trembled beneath her foundation. Rey jolted awake. Shivering from the sweat that glued her forehead in the brisk bedroom, her breathing grew uneasy and sharp as it chased her cognition.

 

The ceiling of yet another hotel stared back at her. 

 

Her eardrum rattled with the cadence of her own pumping heart. She rolled onto her side and her heart, quite literally, skipped a beat. 

 

Tangled in the sheets, Ben was snoozing away. As always, he was curled in a fetal position, his hands firmly wrapped around her in the duvet. Even if he decided on being the little spoon during pillow talk and cuddling, throughout the night, in the natural slumber, he’d always somehow become the bigger spoon. 

 

He had tucked her in after their moment in the car before sneaking off to his own room.

 

At some point, he must have snuck back over and crawled into the bed. Across the room, his clothing was nicely draped or folded on a chair. 

 

She sighed in relief and embraced the snuggle. Her eyes traced his profile. They crawled the mountain of his throat, rounded his chin and climbed the perk of his angular nose. His lips, barely open, released small wisps of sleep. 

 

If she was quiet enough, and if she was capable of burying her own mentality, she could pretend they were in their own home, and sleeping together in their own bed. Maybe it was a two-story home in the suburbs and they had a dog at the foot of their bed, curled at their toes. Or they were in a shoebox of an apartment in the city, their kitchen too small for the ambitious recipes they wanted to try. 

 

Regardless—she had him now and Rey tried not to think too much into it. 

 

At first, _ this thing _ had been a fling. 

 

Ben had been the first person to ever hold her in this manner and it felt indescribable. There was absolutely nothing wrong with embracing a connection. 

 

She just never expected it to become so much more. 

 

And it was just that…  _ more.  _

 

Her eyes checked the blinking analog clock. 

 

It was almost four in the morning and Amilyn would be doing her rounds soon. Any minute now, he’d shake awake from his own beeping wristwatch and sneak out of the bed, leaving only an imprint of his presence in the mattress. 

 

Rey tucked into his neck and inhaled the scent of his shampoo until sleep called her name once more. 

 

The truth was, she was absolutely terrified. She couldn’t tamper with her father’s trust and with the whole world watching, a lot of people would talk. A healthy relationship could never survive when the whole town added their input. Rey wasn’t even the type to care about another’s opinion of herself, but Ben in the crossfire was another story. She could never see him get hurt and she could never lose him, too. 

 

And if keeping it a secret was the only way of having both, she’d have to sacrifice that.  

  
  


⟵♡⟶

 

The aircraft lifted from the tarmac and everyone’s belly did a cartwheel. Rey watched as the town beneath them grew smaller and smaller until it disappeared beneath a blanket of white, the dusting of clouds. The wing dipped into the current as the plane readjusted, heading east, towards the nation’s capital. 

 

The compartment was unusual. It was always a flurry of secretaries and assistants, passing one another and saying  _ excuse me _ , holding their notebooks, and their stacks of reports for another typical day. 

 

Today, it was quiet. 

 

Everyone was hushed. They were too afraid to overstep or speak up. 

 

“Here.”

 

Rey’s ears perked up. Mostly from the sudden voice in the compartment, but also from the familiarity of it. Hovering over her seat, Ben held out a green coffee cup. His name was written on the side in sharpie. 

 

“I ran to Pike’s Place this morning and got you some Starbucks. I figured you were exhausted of hotel breakfast and sugar packets.” 

 

Her smile was quick but  _ enough _ . It sent the message and he received it, even surrounded in the crowded room. He returned it just as hastily. 

 

In their suburb, they’d be making pancakes and smacking one another’s butt’s with hands covered in flour. In their apartment, they’d be sharing sweatshirts and running to the corner bistro, where the cook knows their name and the waitress knows their usual. 

 

Just as she started to thank him, she was suddenly interrupted. 

 

“This is fucking ridiculous.” 

 

Simultaneously, Ben and Rey craned their necks to the commotion. Poe was hunched over, his eyes glued to the television screen while Finn tried to steal the remote from his hands. 

 

Her eyes fixated on the screen. 

 

Ben watched her instead. 

 

> _ “Last night, in a number of tweets on his Twitter page, Snoke criticized Rey Kenobi, the First Daughter of the United States. He called the college campus tour ‘a waste of money and time’ and described the daughter as ‘inadequate and unqualified for the position.’ He went as far as calling the eighteen-year-old ‘uneducated’ and advised she’d ‘spend some time on a college campus as a student, not as a Messiah.’”  _

 

The ringing in her ear returned. The corners of her vision were darkening. 

 

Eyes swiped in her direction, concealed beneath glasses or eyelashes. 

 

People murmured. 

 

> _ “Our team in Seattle caught the chaotic aftermath of a tussle between another reporter and the First Daughter’s private security. Outside of a restaurant, Rey is seen swarmed by pedestrians and paparazzi. It was not long after that the bodyguard stepped in and assaulted a reporter in the crowd. This happened minutes after Snoke’s criticism, on the day of the election tour’s final stop in Washington State.”  _

 

“Turn it off,” Ben warned. 

 

Finn extended his hand but Poe refused, holding it further away. 

 

“She needs to respond to him.” 

 

“I said,” Ben stood and his voice suddenly lifted.  _ “Turn the fucking tv off.”  _

 

The compartment swept in silence. 

 

Eyes scattered as Rey elbowed her way through the aisles, disappearing down the length of the airliner’s corridor. Ben, flushed and heaving, ran his fingers anxiously through his hair as the report continued to fill the aircraft. 

 

“Benjamin.”

 

His shoulders softened. 

 

“Sir.”

 

“Come into my office.”

 

⟵♡⟶

 

Rey lifted the toilet seat and heaved. 

 

The liquified abstract of her anxiety poured out.

 

She turned the faucet quickly and splashed her face. 

 

Trembles jolted through her body. 

 

In the reflection of the mirror, she didn’t see a Messiah. Instead, she saw a young girl from Vermont, thrown into a political climate that demanded too much, into a position of leadership, and into a whirlwind of expectations, her mascara running and her lips bleeding. 

 

A young girl that wanted nothing more than a normal day on a college campus. 

 

The back of her throat stung of acidic despair as she heaved again. 

 

⟵♡⟶

 

“I know you could pretty much get away with murder and not be fired,” the president sat on top of his table, his legs crossed at the ankle. He folded his arms. “But I need you to not make anymore scenes.” 

 

Ben shifted on his feet. 

 

“Sit.”

 

“I’ll stand.”

 

Obi-Wan shrugged. He crossed the private quarter, passing Ben. Along the wall, he opened a cabinet full of bottles. Running and tapping his fingers along the labels, he settled for an aged whiskey and poured the amber contents into two separate glasses. 

 

“I haven’t had the chance to catch up with you.”

 

“I’ve been fine.” 

 

“The tour stopped in Chicago. Did you have the chance to visit home?” 

 

Ben nodded. 

 

“How is Han?” He offered the second glass. 

 

Ben accepted. “Same old.”

 

“He didn’t take the funeral well. Satine and I have tried to reach out to him a few times now.” 

 

“I’m sure he appreciates the extension, but he’s always done better on his own.” 

 

“I know. I remember.” 

 

Ben took a moment to observe the president. The flesh beneath his eyes were dark, almost even purple. 

 

He was losing sleep. 

 

The tour had been a gigantic step forward for the re-election and the news cycle in the past twelve hours had already chopped away at it. It was nearly September, registration was nearing close and before they all knew it, it’d be voting day. 

 

“I want to apologize.”

 

“I’m really tired of people apologizing to me.”

 

“Well, I am.”

 

“I have bigger things to worry about than another bad headline surrounding my daughter.”

 

“Sir.”

 

Obi-Wan raised his glass and clanked it against Ben’s without warning. He tilted his head back and finished the whiskey in one go, not even reacting after the fact. 

 

_ So that’s where Rey learned to drink.  _

 

“We need to talk.”

 

That gut feeling churned over. The one that never steered Ben wrong. 

 

“The interruption at dinner catalyzed the disruption outside and you will not be disciplined for your actions. Your job is to keep my daughter safe and she was not safe. You did what you had to do.”

 

Ben nodded. 

 

“That situation is not why I summoned you to my office.”

 

“Sir?” 

 

“We received an anonymous tip of a threat against my family.” 

 

Ben’s heart stopped. He clenched his whiskey glass tighter. 

 

“How probable is it?”

 

“The agency is looking into the threat. As you know, these threats are common but something about this one gives it credibility and we need to secure the loose ends before the gala.” 

 

“Something about this one.”

 

The president nodded. He turned away from Ben, his hands grasping the edge of his desk. Outside the compartment, the engines were humming in acceleration. Somewhere, down the corridor, he could hear people discussing in the absence of their own voices. 

 

“It mentioned Belfast. It might be the Empire. It might just be a scare tactic. We don’t know.”

 

“And Rey?”

 

“I’m…” the president collected his thoughts. “I’m worried about her.”

 

Ben sat down. He swung the alcohol back.

 

“The gala will still continue.” 

 

“President Kenobi, if I may—“ 

 

“Benjamin, we receive these threats on a daily basis. Just because this one mentions the previous attack, does not mean it has anymore stature than yesterday’s. We cannot surrender to fear, especially this close to the election.”  

 

“I—“

 

“She cannot know.”

 

“That isn’t fair to her.”

 

“It’s her first public event and she’s speaking. She cannot be afraid.”

 

“Her life is endanger.”

 

“It is not endanger. She will be protected.”

 

“You’re asking me to lie to her?”

 

“I’m your boss.” 

 

“You’re her father.” 

 

The president froze for a moment. He had heard that plea before, far too many times. 

 

“Promise me, no matter what, you will stay on your feet and protect Rey at this event.”

 

Ben immediately went silent.

 

“You’re my highest ranking agent. I trust you more than myself to keep her safe.” 

 

His heart was in his wrist and soon, Ben realized, the gut feeling was more of his wound aching than his paranoia he had grown to trust. 

 

> _ “Does it feel good when I do this?” She whispered.  _
> 
>  
> 
> _ His chin to his chest, he watched as Rey planted a kiss on his scar, just above his torso. _
> 
>  
> 
> _ “Yes.” _
> 
>  
> 
> _ “Do you want me to do it again?” _
> 
>  
> 
> _ “Yes.” _

 

“Look me in the eyes, Ben.”

 

“I’ll protect her.”

 

“Look me in the eyes and say it.”

 

> _ Han’s hand grabbed his shoulder. “It’s okay to cry.” _
> 
>  
> 
> _ “I’m not going to cry.” _
> 
>  
> 
> _ “Everyone left. You can cry, son.”  _
> 
>  
> 
> _ Ben’s knees had buckled and they kissed the soggy grass of the burial. He sobbed.  _

 

“I promise I’ll protect Rey.”

 

The president nodded. He took a seat at his desk.

 

Ben could feel his insides clawing at the corners. His mind was begging, relentlessly pleading to bury the intuition that had saved his life so many times—the paranoia that stung his gut when he took the knife to his abdomen for the president. The little voice in the back of his mind sung its song but Ben could not lie to the man that had given him a second chance. He deserved utter honesty and nothing less. 

 

He was entrusting him to protect the most important person in his life and yet, it all felt like a tragic lie. 

 

“Sir,” Ben straightened his suit, his fingers frantically begging to fumble with anything—absolutely anything. It was a habit he had grown into to deal with the stress. “Your daughter and I are together.” 

 

The President forfeited any prior commitment. His movement completely halted. His hand hovered over the paperwork he was reviewing, the tip of his pen still touching the paper and bleeding a blotch through the stack. 

 

In the short endeavor of being Rey’s bodyguard, Ben had made plenty of mistakes, and lots of those mistakes were enough to have him fired; had he not been the only son of Leia Organa. 

 

Rey had run off so many times, she had gotten into fights, escaped to gallivant through the demonstrations, had given him unbelievable attitude and had made him feel so strongly about her that he was willing to bruise another to keep her safe. 

 

Yet, falling in love with Rey and finding a home in her presence was not one of those mistakes and Ben was prepared to lose his job for that. 

 

“I know.” 

 

“You know?” Ben repeated, stupidly. 

 

Ben watched the president as he placed his pen down and fell back into his chair. He looked disheveled and lost from a restless night of tossing and turning. 

 

“I know.”

 

Ben begun to protest but his voice immediately faded, trailing off. The president had that convincing look on his face and had he not been terrified for his life at that moment, he would have even considered it a smile.

 

It had been going on for _so_ _long_. 

 

Him and Rey had never discussed it but they both knew. The attraction was there since the beginning, even through the fights and the arguments and the banter. From the moment she walked off the porch of Finn’s house, wearing a tie-dye shirt too big and complaining about Italian food, Ben was smitten. _That_ _very_ _moment_ , onward, _he knew_ he was fucked for the rest of his existence. 

 

And if he could never love her, he could at least go to work every single day and protect her. 

 

“I’m the President of the United States of America. I know everything.” 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Almost done, ahhh. Curious to hear your theories.


	14. White Lie

**Chapter Fourteen**

White Lie

⟵♡⟶

 

Gratification—What a  _ strange _ , yet  _ indescribable _ feeling encompassed by  **fulfillment** . 

 

Rey wedged her finger and decorticated the glue that held the envelope shut. The papers poured out; raining onto her mattress and joining the accumulation of several others. All that was necessary to read were the first few words—modest and eloquent. 

 

> _ Congratulations Miss Rey Kryze _ - _ Kenobi…  _

 

Titillated, the tears irritated her eyes. She blinked a few times and allowed the droplets to run her cheek. The reassuring hand on her shoulder gave a squeeze. 

 

“Whichever school you decide on,” her father begun, his voice solemn and pensive. “I will support you.”

 

Rey perused the emblems and colors that decorated her bed. “Any school?” 

 

_ “Any school,” _ he reiterated. “The choice is yours. Any of these institutions would be gracious to have you in attendance.”

 

“I don’t want to disappoint you and mom.” 

 

“You could never do that.” 

 

“I have before,” she argued, wordlessly naming her acclaimed controversies and moments of hysteria throughout her rebellious years. “I could again.” 

 

Her father retorted. “You were just a child then.” 

 

Insulted, her face contorted as she slipped from his grasp. She plopped onto the edge of her bed. A few loose acceptance letters fluttered to the ground, landing sporadically at their feet. Her father bent forward, collecting them neatly. 

 

“Even if you did… always remember that progress is never linear. It is a continuous spectrum of evolution and growth. Sometimes you have to take a step back so that you can take two steps forward on the next move.” 

 

Filled to the brim by his own wisdom, he paced his daughter’s bedroom. He examined knickknacks, toyed with souvenirs from international trips, readjusted books, and admired photographs with friends. On her shelf, Newton’s Cradle sat and collected dust since a ninth grade field trip to the National Air and Space Museum. 

 

“Being a kid should not involve shame or embarrassment,” her father pulled back a sphere and released. The force passed through the marbles, creating a swinging pendulum—back and forth, back and forth. “You were trying to ruse and navigate your way through gaffes and blunders, always impressing someone else, meeting expectations, and growing up too fast.” 

 

Rey folded her arms. The clanking of the metallic globules separated their momentary silence. 

 

“I will never resent the wondrous lessons of childhood that blossomed the person in front of me today. Please do not ever think otherwise.” 

 

“Dad,” Rey squeaked. 

 

He peered over his shoulder. 

 

_ Tell him everything. He wouldn’t be upset or mad. He’d understand. _

 

Contrary to the pleading voice in her head, she shook the thought and forced a distracting smile instead. “I’m excited for the gala.”

 

His facial expression shifted. If he felt thwarted or disheartened by her dishonesty, he did not make a show of it. “So am I, little dove.” 

 

“I haven’t heard that name in so long.”

 

Her father leaned against the edge of her desk. He settled the lost acceptance letters into a pile before stuffing his pant pockets with balled fists; his legs crossed at the ankle. “Your mother and I meant to keep it a surprise…” He started. 

 

Rey’s ears perked. Her balance shifted. 

 

“We want to have the election party in Vermont.”

 

Agape in shock, Rey felt her lips grow into an authentic grin. “We’re going home?” 

 

“I’ll take the whole week off. We’ll rent a cabin and visit the lake for a few days. Maybe we can find some time for s’mores and ice-fishing.”

 

“This is unbelievable,” Rey started. Her fingers combed through her hair, tucking errant bangs behind her ears. She squealed, falling forward and into her father’s arms. He barely had time to readjust beneath her weight as he utilized the desk for leverage. 

 

“You are getting too big for this,” he halfheartedly laughed. 

 

Rey closed her eyes, her head tucked into his shoulder. He smelled like pinewood. 

 

“Don’t tell your mother I told you,” he mumbled against the top of her head between planted kisses. “I’d never hear the end of it.” 

 

“I won’t tell anyone. It’ll be our secret.” 

 

For a moment, Rey sunk into the loving embrace of a father. It was sweet, but too short. 

 

“Secrets,” her father started. “That reminds me…” 

 

Her gut twinged. She could feel her fingers unlock as she took a step back.

 

“I know you wanted to apply for college on your own accord. However, there was no way you’d be accepted for the fall semester had I not intervened.  _ I know it was wrong _ , but Benjamin was more than helpful in the case.” 

 

“Benjamin—?” Rey tinkered on the thought, her eyebrows furrowed. 

 

Her father looked equally bewildered. 

 

And, then, he realized. 

 

_ They haven’t spoken about it. Not yet, at least.  _

 

“Agent Solo,” he apologized. “Your bodyguard transferred the documents to me so I could have them expedited. I just wanted to inform you myself.” 

 

“Oh,” Rey cleared her throat, swallowing a hard lump. “Right. Right. Sure. Okay.” 

 

The silence between them was deafening. The distracting clanking of Newton’s Cradle continued onward, filling the fragmented sentences and lost thoughts. The snow drifted, settling on the bottom of a bubbled globe bought in a gift shop of Moscow. Outside, a police siren echoed from a distant street. 

 

“What else did he tell you?”

 

Her father hesitated. It was enough for Rey to notice. 

 

“Nothing at all, he just told me about the applications.” 

 

The same manifestation of father and daughter guilt curated between them. 

 

Rey nodded. 

 

“Is there anything else he should have told me?” 

 

His question lingered in the air between them. It was almost tangible, floating in a speckle of dishonesty and secrecy—the factors that had sadly grown between them since he swore himself into the highest office in the country. 

 

_ Now is your chance. Just say it. He knew his mother. He called him Benjamin.  _

 

“No.” 

 

Her father nodded. He frantically attempted to occupy himself, fumbling with his tie or fixing his bangs that had drifted into his eyelashes. “Well, let me leave you be. I’m sure you are jet-lagged and need to prepare for the gala.” 

 

Rey only nodded once more. Her eyes dragged, convoying his movements to the door. 

 

Her father grasped the handle. It opened from the frame and the room filled with the daily bustle of The White House. In the hallway, secretaries and assistants raced by. 

 

“Wait,” Rey urged. “Dad?”

 

“Yes, little dove?” He hastily responded, glancing over his stiff shoulder. He seemed perplexed and anxious for her awaited moment—to release the baggage she was far too young to carry herself. 

 

_ Just say it. _

 

Her mouth opened but nothing came out. His eyes saddened. 

 

“Don’t worry about it,” he muttered. “Whichever school you decide.” 

 

It felt sour in her throat. “Thank you for helping me get into school.”

 

“You did that yourself.”

 

And then he closed the door, leaving Rey to her scattered acceptances on her mattress and the soft clanking of a settling pendulum, perpetually guiding back and forth until someone put an end to it.

 

⟵♡⟶

 

> **\- Rey | 8:56 PM -**
> 
> I need a favor. 
> 
>  
> 
> **\- Finn | 8:59 PM -**
> 
> Anything. Just name it. 
> 
>  
> 
> **\- Rey | 9:02 PM -**
> 
> No questions asked. 
> 
>  
> 
> **\- Finn | 9:05 PM -**
> 
> Hm. You have my curiosity… but the offer still stands. 
> 
>  
> 
> **\- Rey | 9:08 PM -**
> 
> Can you come pick me up? 
> 
>  
> 
> **\- Rey | 9:08 PM -**
> 
> If anyone asks, we are hanging out at your house. 

 

⟵♡⟶

 

The vehicle idled beneath the covering of the marbled fortress. 

 

Everywhere else—it poured a sheet of rain. 

 

Finn sat in the driver’s seat and occupied himself by fumbling with the temperature dial. The windows were fogging up but the weather outside was a reminder that  _ winter was coming _ . He turned it back, then forward again, he slid the fan high, then low again. He did anything, absolutely anything, to shake the skeptical glances from security personal.

 

They walked the length of his car. A canine’s nose snuff the front-end trunk. A mirror grazed beneath in search of something that would absolutely never be there. 

 

“Almost five years of friendship and I’m still treated like a Russian spy,” he mumbled to himself. 

 

Just then, the side dash camera beeped in notification of an approaching figure. He flipped the mechanism and the door unlocked, granting his best friend to pull the handle and to climb into the front seat as quickly as possible. 

 

He eyed her casual clothing—tight jeans and a worn sweatshirt. 

 

“I didn’t realize being your only friend with a car meant I had to Uber you everywhere.” 

 

“You’re not my only friend with a car,” Rey countered. She readjusted herself, clicking the seatbelt securely. “You’re my only friend with a car that will Uber me anywhere _ and cover my ass.”  _

 

Finn hummed. He put the car in drive and automatically, the headlights illuminated into the rain. “Where to, then?” 

 

“I need to get to Dupont Circle.” 

 

“Your plan to get around the tracker on my navigational system?” 

 

“Set your coordinates to  _ Pinkberry _ in Dupont Circle.”

 

“Are you in—?“ Finn begun.

 

Rey interrupted. “Just do it.”

 

He obliged her, plugging in address to the gigantic centerpiece screen. Finn’s parents were lobbyists for electric vehicles and therefore, one of Finn’s many toys included an array of Tesla’s in every model and every color. Rey had to admit, it had some nice features too—if you considered autopilot and state-of-the-art specs as  _ nice _ . 

 

He had several plugged-in toys in the garage. This one performed the best in inclement weather, though. 

 

“I also have to leave my phone with you.”

 

She reached forward, placing it in the cupholder. 

 

He raised an eyebrow.

 

“Tracking device,” she advised. “If someone checks, they’ll think I’m with you.” 

 

He flipped his turn signal and pulled onto Pennsylvania Avenue. His eyes were apprehensive, teetering between the road and his friend. “Are you getting yourself into some trouble?”

 

“I thought I said no questions asked?” 

  
  


Without further objection, he followed the directions on the navigational system to the residential neighborhood of Northwest Washington, D.C. The rain splattered against the windshield, filling the silence that momentarily took their car. 

 

“Just don’t get yourself killed. I’ll never hear the end of it.”

 

⟵♡⟶

 

The melting aroma of blueberries and ground cinnamon wafted to the ceiling. 

 

It circulated through the living room, past framed portraits and house plants. It sunk into the bamboo flooring and beneath the door’s frame until it met Rey’s nose. She scrunched it up, considering the odds of him baking at this hour before gently knocking. 

 

No response. 

 

She tightened her fist, her nails digging into her palm momentarily, before knocking a tad bit  _ harder _ and  _ louder _ this time around. Somewhere in the apartment, a voice responded. It shouted over the loft music and was followed by a bustle of footsteps. 

 

Rey took a deep breath—like she was about to dive into the deep end. 

 

The door opened and Ben was just as startled as she was. He was shirtless, wearing only grey sweatpants that hung low on his hip bones. His hair was in disarray and the remnants of flour speckled his cheeks. A rag was draped over his shoulders. 

 

“Busy?” Rey asked. 

 

“How did you…?” Ben glanced down the empty hallway of his apartment complex before eying the First Daughter. Her hair was glued to her forehead, her clothing drenched from the weather outside. “—You know what? Fuck it.” He extended his arm and all was lost. They collided like two stars destined for self-destruction. Their lips locked, their fingers tangled in hair, their legs struggling to keep up with their feet as they blindly sought a place of refuge. 

 

Rey parted, “I missed you.”

 

He cupped her face, “It’s been a day.” 

 

“I know,” She admitted. “And I missed you.”

 

“I can fix that.”

 

The moment was lost. His lips were curled into a smirk and hidden into the pool of her neck, his kisses lost somewhere else on her shaking body. Clothing doused in rainwater sat in a pile on the floor as Ben tried everything in his power to warm her body. 

 

Rey’s head fell back into the cushioned loveseat; her eyes following into the back of her head. All she can remember conjuring is the thought of happily dying to feel him release inside of her just _one_ _more_ _time_. 

 

And she could almost taste it; could almost smell it—the gasp of his thrust. 

 

His fist was in his pants and he was aligned, his hips kissing hers to the sound of jolting thunderstrike. 

 

“Babe.” 

 

Ben was somewhere else. Heaven, probably. He pushed forward even further and her knees buckled as she considered her options. The beeping from the kitchen continued. 

 

“Babe,” She punched his shoulder and he snapped out of it. “Your smoke detector is going off.” 

 

“S—shit,” he panted. His palms pressed on the sofa, hoisting himself away from her. She countered like a magnet, wanting him only closer. He hesitated as he attempted to navigate the situation. “I should go take care of that.”

 

In the absence of his weight, Rey pulled a free blanket over herself. She watched him slide into the kitchen and chaotically get a handle on the situation. With the oven open, the smoke exulted. He wafted it with his hands while turning on the overhead fans. 

 

The blanket draped over her shoulders, she wandered into the kitchen. 

 

“What are these for?” She eyed the trays. The contents were crisp and black, unidentable. 

 

“Blueberry muffins. I was making them for the other agents. We were having a bit of a potluck ourselves at the gala.” 

 

Rey smiled. “We still have time.” 

 

“You want to help me make a new batch?”

 

“What could be so hard about making muffins?”

 

Ben leaned against the granite counter. His sweatpants were hanging dangerously low with the growth from their couch rendezvous. Rey desperately tried not to look.

 

“I happen to be a master at baking,” she took small steps, encroaching on his territory. 

 

“I bet you are, scavenger.” 

 

“What do you say, Agent Solo?” Rey hummed. “Wanna get wine drunk and bake some muffins with me?”

 

“You know I can’t resist when you call me Agent Solo.” 

 

He leaned in for a kiss but received a face full of flour instead. Rey exploded in a fit of laughter but could not escape the kitchen before his arms were wrapped around her waist, her arms pinned. She kicked her legs but it was no use as he easily held her into the air, the blanket slipping from their wrestle.

 

The room smelled of burnt sugar—yet still sweet.  

 

⟵♡⟶

 

“Favorite book?” 

 

Ben raised an eyebrow. “Don’t make fun of me but I appreciate romance novels and poetry.”

 

He recalled a simpler time of riding the subway to work with his newly rented book from the city library. Nowadays he hardly found the privacy, or the moment to read a few pages. He was preoccupied with keeping the First Daughter out of trouble or beneath his weight in bed. 

 

“You didn’t answer the question.”

 

“I’m currently reading  _ The Sun and Her Flowers _ , and yes, I like it.” 

 

Rey nodded. She was sitting on the kitchen counter while they waited for the muffins to the bake. The aftermath of the chaos was still ripe; the crime scene fresh. Cinnamon covered every inch of the kitchen, a broken container of blueberries— _ something Rey knew absolutely nothing about _ —was splattered across the tiled flooring, and their cheeks were equally imprinted by flour in the shape of the other’s palms. She kicked her legs, wearing an oversized tee he had salvaged for. 

 

Ben tilted his head back, finishing off another bottle of wine. They were going through it like juice. 

 

Classical piano played from his _Alexa_. 

 

_ Was this what life would be like if they had time together? Sleeping in late? No responsibility except remembering to water the houseplants and to feed the dog? Sharing a phone bill?  _

 

“Favorite childhood memory?” 

 

Rey bit her lip. “When I was eight, my parents wanted to surprise me with a trip to Disney World. And,  _ of course _ , my mother being the cliche politician wife had wanted to do the typical late-morning to school that detoured to the airport.” Her words were slurred, partially from the wine and partially from the thoughts that choked in her throat. “But, my dad? He wanted to go  _ all out. _ He wanted to do something really special. So, one weekend, we all got in the car and went to the lake and after sundown, we walked out into the field. The grass was really high—and so itchy—yet, I did not mind. As I ran through, the lightning bugs fluttered from their hiding spots and flew into the sky. We were so far from any city, you couldn’t even tell if the twinkle was a bug or a star.”

 

Ben stared at her as she spoke. He never interrupted, even when she paused to reflect, or to hiccup from the alcohol. 

 

> _ “You must be very special for the fairies to trust you.” _
> 
>  
> 
> _ “Fairies? You’re silly.” _
> 
>  
> 
> _ “Am I? They’re dancing for you.” _
> 
>  
> 
> _ “Fairies aren’t real.” _
> 
>  
> 
> _ Her father had hushed her, kneeling to the ground. Rey wrapped her arms around his neck, sitting on his free lap. “Don’t say that too loud. A fairy dies when you say you don’t believe in them.” _
> 
>  
> 
> _ She nodded, watching the creatures waltz around them. They illuminated in the reflection of her eyes, a pool of ivory and verdant wonder. She whispered this time around, careful not to scare away the fairies that surrounded her family in the forest of Vermont.  _

 

“I was six,” she shrugged. “So, obviously I thought fairies were real.”

 

Ben remained quiet, maneuvering through the situation at play. 

 

Rey sniffled as she frantically silenced the cry that began somewhere else; swallowing a lump that formed in the back of her throat. “Anyway, Disney was fun.”

 

“You know he loves you, Rey. He would do anything for you… to see you happy.” 

 

“He told me today.”

 

Ben fell into an abyss. His body was probably levitating. He was not intoxicated or sober enough for this conversation. 

 

“About the applications, he told me.”

 

Relief coarsed his veins as he sighed, but not soon enough for Rey to have noticed. 

 

She raised an eyebrow. 

 

He raised his back. 

 

“Do we need to talk about something?”

 

“No? Do we?”

 

“Are you sure?”

 

He stayed silent. His ears were turning red. He could feel them. 

 

She folded her arms. “Then why did you tell my father about the applications?”

 

“I—?”

 

“I thought it was a secret between us. I told you I wanted to do it myself.”

 

“You needed them expedited for the fall semester. Surely the President of the United States could help with that.” 

 

“You had no right to go behind my back, Ben. You know my dad and I are trying to fix our relationship right now and you could have risked everything else.”

 

“Everything— _ else? _ ” 

 

“Yes, Ben. This,” she motioned towards her exposed legs, the mess of the kitchen and his half-naked poise. “What if he suspected that there was more? Why would the President’s daughter trust her bodyguard with college applications if their relationship wasn’t more than just professional?”

 

Ben remained silent. 

 

_ Shit. Shit. Shit. She doesn’t know. Or is this a trap. Shit. Shit. Shit.  _

 

The internal compass that saved his life on the battlefield and the President’s in Ireland was going haywire. It couldn’t tell which way was north; which way was south. It spun recklessly. 

 

“He seemed cool about it,” Ben responded.  _ That wasn’t a lie.  _

 

“Cool about it?” Rey countered.  _ Great, we’re fucked.  _

 

“Well, it worked?” His voice rose a bit. “You got into college? Every single one you applied to.”

 

“That isn’t the point. I wanted to do this by myself. If that I meant I would enroll late, then that was the sacrifice. I was late jumping into this, anyway. The point is, Ben, I trusted you with a secret and you deliberately went behind my back to tell my father.  _ My father, _ who is your boss and the President of the United States, may I remind you.” 

 

“I know who your father is, you don’t need to _ fucking remind me _ .”

 

“Then why did you do it?”

 

“I don’t like all these secrets.”

 

Rey stood. Ben frantically followed. 

 

They squared off. Her chin rose to better meet his eyes. 

 

“You don’t like secrets? Then what about this one?” 

 

He didn’t reply. 

 

“Are you done with me?”

 

“Rey, no.” 

 

They stood in the midst of their chaos, the remnants of their candied and floury hurricane. Her eyes were watering and her lips were quivering. Ben felt the overwhelming sensation to reverse time and do it all over again, but that was next to impossible. 

 

“I thought secrets were our thing.”

 

“Imagine how much easier this would be if we didn’t have so many of them, Rey.” 

 

She nodded, understanding. 

 

“That’s all,” he reassured her. 

 

“I’m just…” Her voice wandered off, her fingertips fumbled with the other, her sentences remained with dotted ends in the sky. The tears cumulated. She could only imagine what would happen if the world found out. She could almost read the headlines, could hear her mother’s harsh words, the disappointment of her father’s wary tone, the betrayal of not confiding into Finn. “I’m scared, and I’ve never felt more alone.” 

 

“You’re not alone,” Ben whispered. 

 

Her eyes lifted to his; irresistible and swelling of honey. “Neither are you.” 

 

They remained silent and she forfeited the argument. 

 

“Okay,” Rey nodded once more; mostly for herself than for him. She allowed herself to collapse into his arms and her exhausted eyes closed, his lips planting small; yet comforting kisses throughout her tangled hair. “I’m not ready,” she mumbled into his scent. 

 

“You’re not ready for what?”

 

“I know we should soon, but I’m not ready to tell him yet.”

 

Ben nodded slowly. She lifted her head and their eyes met. 

 

> _ I’m the President of the United States of America. I know everything.  _

 

“That’s fine,” Ben promised. “We don’t have to tell him yet.”

 

⟵♡⟶

 

“I’m a bit nervous.”

 

“You’ll do fine. The prompter will help you cheat on your speech.” 

 

The refrigerator was open as Ben added the trays of new—and  _ unburnt _ —blueberry muffins to it. Since he had been on a national tour with the First Family, there was significant room for them. The job hardly required sacrificing milk or eggs for space. 

 

“I know my speech like the back of my hand. I’ve been reciting it like crazy,” Rey was pacing the kitchen. “Well,  _ Poe has been forcing me to hit the speech out of the ballpark. _ ” 

 

“Which you will do.” 

 

“I know. It’s just…” 

 

Ben raised his eyebrows, silently asking the question. 

 

Her pacing came to stop in front of him. She closed the refrigerator’s door for him, meeting his eyes. “I have the first dance with my dad and I’ve never slow danced with anyone. I don’t know how.” 

 

“You don’t know how to dance?” Ben’s lips flourished into a taunting smile. “Seriously?” 

 

“Yes, let me fit dance recitals somewhere between my save the world agenda and my teenage rebellion.”

 

Ben chuckled. “I thought you went to prom?” 

 

“Yes, with Finn, my gay best friend who only wanted to dance during Whitney Houston and Michael Jackson.” 

 

Ben suddenly had fervent, flashing memories of the eighties nightclub. He shook them away, “Right.” 

 

“I’m sure it won’t be too difficult.” 

 

In the moonlight cascading through the ceiling-to-floor windows, Ben found himself closing the distance between them. His arm snaked around her waist as he pulled her endearingly close. His voice sighed, “You need a teacher.” 

 

Rey sunk into the embrace. She placed her hands on his shoulders. “Could you show me?”

 

Before she could even finish her sentence, the classical music that had still been playing took over the moment. It stitched itself in, deafening their cradle. Ben stole one of Rey’s hands, intertwining his fingers into hers. He placed soft, enduring kisses on each knuckle before pulling, reeling her in as close as possible. 

 

They probably looked like a disaster—but a beautiful one, at that. They slipped on flour, their hair tangled and sticky, their hearts still wound up from the earlier argument that would soon be forgotten. 

 

“The key is patience,” he whispered. “You have all night to dance, so don’t rush it. This is your moment with them, make it last.” 

 

On cue, Rey tripped on his feet. 

 

His instincts kicked in and he swiftly turned, transferring the energy into a spin that settled back into the sway—a soft drift like falling snow. 

 

“You’ll get—”

 

“I love you,” Rey interjected. 

 

Their lips met immediately. Ben hoisted her onto his kitchen counter. The utensils clattered to the floor and the wine glasses—although hollowed—spilled in puddles of brewed shards. Ben paid no mind. 

 

“Spread your legs.” 

 

Rey appealed to his request. He dipped down. 

 

“Oh—my God.” 

 

She fell back onto the counter, her eyes meeting the endless ceiling and the hanging bulbed fixtures that casted shadows upon the open living area. They were among the clouds. The moon smiled upon them with her approval. She didn’t even care if the neighbors saw or heard her anymore. She was with God now; she was untouchable. 

 

Her toes curled. 

 

“We’re alone here,” he panted between impatient kisses. He made his way down her navel. “Be as loud as you want, baby.” 

 

Rey grabbed a fistful of his hair and let go—releasing every hushed voice, polite greeting, and secret she has had to keep throughout the years. Her voice rose to the rafters as her eyes rolled back into her head, the only sensation of Ben’s tongue working against her clit and two of his fingers knuckle-deep in her throbbing sex as he pushed her further and further into the kitchen counter granite. 

 

A jolt bounced through her like a pinball. She felt every single ounce of blood, every speckle of her soul, every whisper of her life release a shudder.

 

She'd trust Ben with her life, if she had to. 

 


	15. Long Live the King

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger warning: gun violence.

**Chapter Fifteen**

Long Live the King

⟵♡⟶

 

Fingertips delicately dawdled down his ribcage, staggering towards the healed reminder of his wound  —  of Belfast. Even in the stream of moonlight that shimmered through his bedroom window, Rey could detail the darkness of his eyes. They stirred through a silence of internal affliction as they laid together, bathing in an afterglow of their love. 

 

Whenever he stirred, the nape of her neck itched beneath a growing stubble. The warm breathing he exhaled brimmed the insignificant vacancy between the sheets. His skin was still glossy, coated in a layer of sweat from his own exertion.  

 

In a haven such as his apartment, they were able to be as **bold** and **intrepid** as their hearts desired. They were no longer sneaking around a hotel, or locking a compartment on Air Force One. It felt domestic; no longer a sin. 

 

Rey muttered. “What are you thinking about?” 

 

Intuitively, he hid beneath the mop of midnight that draped his eyes. The bangs were disheveled; still slick and sticking to his forehead. He mumbled an inaudible response, one Rey could hardly question before her breath was caught in her own throat, spurred by kisses planting lower and lower beneath the duvet. 

 

Her mouth parting, Rey lingered by a thread. The gates opened and the surge fell through.

 

At the juncture of her knees, his hands snaked beneath so he could easily restrain her. Flustered; Ben trailed his tongue up the assortment of her nerves. The dribble of his own lips blended with the sap of her contracting, unfolding entrance to prepare for round three   —  _ or was it four? _

 

Rey couldn't remember. She was dizzy. 

 

“Ben —?” She spluttered; gasping. 

 

He pressed his tongue into the edge of her delicate plead, silencing further pleas. The noise she squelched instead was contagious to Ben, compelling his movements to quicken in a new found eagerness.  

 

He did anything —  _ absolutely anything _ — to distract his own thoughts and to forget about tomorrow. 

 

⟵♡⟶

 

 

At some point, between them slipping into slumber and the sunrise, Ben shook awake. 

 

Carefully, he pried himself from Rey’s arms, and the warmth she emitted into his bed. It was a feeling he never imagined experiencing,  _ ever, _ let alone in his own home. Now, it had become a moment he was far too paranoid to entirely appreciate. 

 

During his escape, he tripped over their discarded clothing that had been tossed aimlessly on the carpet. The doorframe to the bathroom caught his fall, shaking him into a brief state of alertness. 

 

Behind him, Rey stirred, but did not wake. 

 

In their haven, she was dreaming of elsewhere. Her body was swimming in one of his old tees and her hair was bedraggled; collecting static. She nuzzled further into the depth of the pillows. 

 

_ You’re my highest ranking agent. I trust you more than myself to keep her safe. _

 

With cupped hands, Ben collected cold water beneath his faucet before splashing his face. He repeated the motion until he finally felt something; until he finally felt _anything._

 

His skin crawled, tingling, from the biting chill. 

 

“Fuck,” he mumbled to himself before repeating the action. **“Fuck.”**

 

He didn’t even have a ring to give her, but he knew he wanted to get on his knee. He's probably known since the very first time she argued his authority. And it fucking ruined him; knowing that idealistic denouement was impractical.

 

There was no happy ending in this story. 

 

In the midst of their love, she had gripped his face and begged him to stop. Her insides were convulsing, sending tidal waves of disturbance throughout their shared body. Yet, he complied, bringing his determined cadence to an immediate stop, only for Rey to cup his cheeks closer and whisper quieter: _ “ I want to go to Philadelphia for school and I want you to come with me. I want you to be by my side. Not because it’s your job, but because you want to be.” _

 

And Ben responded wordlessly, high from her proposal. 

 

He blamed her father, the President of the United States, for creating a person so utterly and unapologetically hopeful. 

 

It was as if she had forgotten an entire nation critiqued her decisions at their dinner table every single night. 

 

That, _or she just didn’t care._ And Ben couldn’t decide which was worst. 

 

But then, the seconds were mounting, and her smile was faltering. So, he lied. 

 

He promised her the same, because she was vulnerable and making  _ that expression _ right before an orgasm, and he just couldn’t explain otherwise on the eve of the gala. 

 

Ben lied because he wanted that, too. Badly. 

 

For a splitting, heart-rending moment, Rey looked like any ordinary girl, in his ordinary bed, sharing their ordinary love. Except, they were anything but. 

 

He had gotten his taste and now he’d have to live the rest of his life knowing he missed it. Sometimes, he wondered if they should have even done  _ this _ _._ Compressing their feelings would have hurt a whole lot less. She could have just vanished to college and met a new group of people  — a guy her age, with no emotional baggage, or wounds. 

 

Perhaps Rey didn’t chose falling in love with her bodyguard either. It just happened. 

 

Merely as careful, he crawled back into the bed, into her arms, and into passion's hearth. His body settled into the mold they typically cuddled at, but his eyes remained focused on the ceiling until an alarm clock buzzed. 

 

⟵♡⟶

 

 

“Moving east on Constitution Avenue,” Agent Solo responded to a flutter of voices in his ear. “Avoid a police escort, we are arriving incognito.” 

 

The capital was engrossed in neoclassical architecture, even borrowing from ancient societies that one could argue plagued the new world’s cause. Domed monuments and columned pillars littered the pavement of the city and, as they drove, the streets, and the people, were consumed by a blur of chaos. Planted in the center of it all, the Monument’s white granite was illuminated brightly. It towered over the National Mall in a way you simply couldn't ignore. 

 

Yet  — Rey was quick to recognize the absence of greenery. 

 

Pigments of red, orange, and yellow were replacing the olive that Rey had abandoned in the summer months. When the gale grew too strong, the trees often surrendered, shedding their dead weight to allow the wind to steal their leaves. 

 

Even the cherry blossoms were dying. 

 

Autumn was approaching, and so was everything they worked so diligently to protect. Soon, it would be a Tuesday in November and the country would visit the polls. 

 

It was unsettling, but Rey focused on the assortment of life she experienced that past summer. The warmer months were saturated in a melody of contrasting landscape. She had witnessed the protruding snow-dipped mountaintops of Colorado, the curling layers of Arizona canyons, dripping caverns of Virginia, a never-ending horizon of fields in Nebraska, and some redwood forests that could kiss the sky in California. 

 

No matter where she went, the only promise was a sunrise patched by a sunset, and so on.

 

“Pulling up with the Dove.” 

 

Her ears perked, enticed by curiosity. Over the partition that separated them, she caught his fingers retreating from the earpiece that coiled his lobe and tucked beneath the collar of his tuxedo. Impulsively, his eyes shifted to the rearview mirror and caught her own prying gaze. 

 

He looked exhausted, but smiled. 

 

Rey raised an eyebrow. “Dove?” 

 

“New codename.”

 

“On what order?” Rey questioned. 

 

> _ He had seemed especially afflicted that morning. Every movement he made created further hurdles, every word felt strained, and pieced to incoherent fragmentations. His tie had yet to be done, still draped loosely over his neck, and one of the more noticable differences in his demeanor. Sporadically, confidential paperwork littered the surface of the Oval Desk.  _
> 
>  
> 
> _ Ben thought he would be in trouble for his tardiness. He had rushed that morning, stopped for Rey’s coffee, and then snuck her back into her own home.  _
> 
>  
> 
> _ Instead, he found the president in a competitive state.  _
> 
>  
> 
> _ “I doubt it is necessary for me to reiterate your assignment tonight.”  _
> 
>  
> 
> _ Ben had stated as they rehearsed before: “Protect Rey.”  _
> 
>  
> 
> _ His boss raked his fingers through dismantled hair. He seemed lost, or distracted. Something was drowning his thoughts on the dawn of an event that should have been exciting. No matter what you repeated to help yourself sleep, empty threats always held more substance the morning of.  _
> 
>  
> 
> _ “Use the underground entrance, avoid reporters, and change her codename. Only let your personal team aware of these itinerary changes. No one else.” _
> 
>  
> 
> _ Ben had nodded in response to his chief, noting fervently on a handheld pad to relay the information in the morning meeting with his operatives. In the same building, Rey was somewhere else, preparing for the evening with a team of stylists and assistants.  _
> 
>  
> 
> _ “Retire Scavenger. She’s Dove now.”  _
> 
>  
> 
> _ Abruptly, his pen stopped on the paper.  _
> 
>  
> 
> _ Ben glanced up, only to find the president elsewhere. He gazed from the window of the west wing, allowing his own thoughts to pan out. He was lost in a vortex, surrounded by four walls and ceiling that held the secrecy, ambitions, and legacy of every candidacy before himself.  _

 

“It was your father’s idea,” Ben   —  _ even if it hurt _  — lied . “He thought you grew out of the Scavenger’s title, so he suggested that we’d change it.” 

 

⟵♡⟶

 

In exhibition of the National Gallery of Art, the beams belonging to spotlights tangoed, tantalizing through the clouds of the night sky. The west building was lively   — swarmed by crowds of admirers, star-studded guests, and working journalists. Over the structure’s columns, three banners swung in the evening’s breeze to promote President Obi-Wan Kenobi’s ongoing campaign. 

 

_ Our. Only. Hope.  _

 

And down the abutting marbled steps  — a red carpet was laid out for arrivals. 

 

Rey stared through her window in awe. Of course, throughout her years, there was a sense of entitlement and indulgence that followed a title as notable as  _ First Daughter _ _._ She had watched music festivals from backstage, had presented at renown award ceremonies, attended movie premieres, and even sat in the front row of fashion weeks. 

 

The bottom of her heels had met the velvet texture of luxurious carpets far too many times. 

 

However, this event hosted a different sentiment.  Everyone were celebrating her family  —  _ and she was directly named on the pamphlet for presenting the honorary speech _ . She was the guest of honor and heads would turn at her arrival. 

 

It was the sort of thing that made Agent Solo worried. 

 

In the reflection of a handheld mirror, Rey reapplied a layer of plum lipstick. She smacked her lips together and checked her teeth for unwelcomed stains. Rey expected them to join the lingering crowd — for Ben to abandon his role as her secret boyfriend to fully assume his position as Agent Solo. She awaited the opportunity to trail her every movement and sternly object anyone who stepped too closely to what was  _ his. _

 

It slightly turned her on — how protective he had grown those last few weeks. 

 

But whiplash was an understatement. 

 

Her neck practically snapped as her hand grasped the locked car handle. The Tahoe continued past the grand atrium, flashing lights, and lingering crowd. 

 

“Where are  — ?” 

 

“ — Security advises high-profile arrivals to utilize the underground garage,” he interrupted. 

 

His answer was blunt, and formal. Rey raised an eyebrow. 

 

“Aren’t we supposed to be answering reporter questions and meeting voters tonight?”

 

“ _ Rey,  _ you are only to meet with those that have security clearance _ inside the building. ” _

 

There was something in the way he stressed her name. He seemed worried or extra cautious of the evening. One could argue he was almost pleading, not advising. He wasn’t a bodyguard, but rather a concerned boyfriend. 

 

Awkwardly, she recalled that very first night Ben had driven her home from the italian restaurant, and the ridiculous argument they had gotten into. His voice, even now, and his tone, were not that far off.

 

> _ “Are you okay?” _
> 
>  
> 
> _ “What?” Rey blurted. Her hair was still half-up and in her face. _
> 
>  
> 
> _ “Are you okay? Did they touch you?” _
> 
>  
> 
> _ “I’m fine, everything is fucking fine.” She jabbered in a sarcastic tone. _
> 
>  
> 
> _ “Why did you leave the restaurant?” With a blinker, he turned onto Pennsylvania Avenue. _
> 
>  
> 
> _ “Excuse me?” Rey struggled to collect her words. “And where the fuck were you?” _
> 
>  
> 
> _ “I was investigating a potential threat.” _
> 
>  
> 
> _ “The threat that attacked me on the sidewalk?” _
> 
>  
> 
> _ “No.” _
> 
>  
> 
> _ “Isn’t it your job to keep me safe?” _
> 
>  
> 
> _ His grip stiffened more, as if it could, his jaw clenching and unclenching. _
> 
>  
> 
> _ “I can’t keep you safe if you decide to go on an evening walk all by,” his voice suddenly grew in turbulence, “your fucking self.” _
> 
>  
> 
> _ At the security clearance, the gate lifted and guards gestured for their vehicle to enter the driveway that wrapped around the front of The White House. _
> 
>  
> 
> _ “Well, I’m probably already plastered all over the twenty-four hour news cycle. Add that to the list of reasons why my father won’t get reelected. So, thank you for that.” _
> 
>  
> 
> _ He slammed on the brakes and the vehicle screeched to a stop. Rey flew forward, hitting the front seat. With shaking arms, she steadied herself. _
> 
>  
> 
> _ A glare that hard could turn him into stone. _
> 
>  
> 
> _ “This is no one’s fault, but your own.” _
> 
>  
> 
> _ “I guess we’ll just see what my dad has to say about that.” _
> 
>  
> 
> _ Rey tugged at the handle of her door, quickly escaping the tension of the vehicle. No one had ever done that before. Not her parents, not the press secretary, her assistant, or the numerous past agents she had skated through. _
> 
>  
> 
> _ Everyone circumnavigated Rey through life. No one ever told her otherwise. _
> 
>  
> 
> _ Ownership of responsibilities and aberrations was not her forte. _
> 
>  
> 
> _ “Rey,” he shouted after her, his voice almost straining. “Get back in the car.” _
> 
>  
> 
> _ “It’s Scavenger, remember?” _
> 
>  
> 
> _ The door whammed shut behind her.  _
> 
>  
> 
> _ Through the window glass, he watched her run up the front steps of the President’s residency. _

 

Rey folded her arms, unable to formulate an argument in response. Practically a sliver of a second later, the barricade along the sidewalk collapsed. Protesters slammed along the side of their vehicle like a rolling tide. A jabble of obscene expressions and gestures flooded into their conversation.

 

Amidst the chaos, someone spat on the glass of her window. 

 

A disturbance of cameras flashed, blinding anyone beneath the glare. The whistles of police officers were deafening, casting a background noise beneath the shouting. Their posters and the words written on them became streaks of black as the vehicle accelerated down the block. 

 

Ben gripped the steering wheel, knuckle-white, as Rey chased her own breathing. 

 

All her mind was capable of reminiscencing was the protest that summer afternoon, the one for gun violence, the one that electrified her entire political venture, and sent her on this journey of self-discovery across her country. The adrenaline sent ripples through her, reminding her heart that she was no different from the ones beating outside the car. 

 

They were just as riled up, just as angry as she once was. 

 

She felt like she was going to be sick, and the evening had just begun. 

 

⟵♡⟶

 

Silence was terse as they pulled into the parking garage. A group of canine units circled their vehicle, sniffing along the trimming and trunk. Alongside them, a security officer reflected a mirror beneath, searching for devices or anything out of the ordinary. 

 

He nodded, and the gate lifted to grant them access. 

 

“Inside, you’ll be okay.” He spoke assertively, parking the car. “Everyone has clearance.”

 

Her response was dull. “I’m fine.” 

 

Before Ben could utilize another moment to assure her that  _ everything was  going to be okay _ and that  _ he was going to be by her side for the rest of the evening _ _,_ another agent had opened the backdoor and was escorting Rey to the adjacent corridors. 

 

“R—” He cleared his throat, stopping himself from calling her something as personal as her given name, especially in front of his colleagues. “— Do you trust me?”

 

He was dangerously close as they awaited for the elevator. She could practically feel his breath on the back of her neck, the peppermint trailing up her bare spine. Rey studied the ticking dial as it lowered, reaching their level — well, at least, she tried to. 

 

The other security officers stood nearby, oblivious to their discomfort. 

 

“Yes, _ Agent Solo _ _.”_ She nodded curtly. “I know you’re good at your job.” 

 

The doors buzzed, dividing to grant them access. They stepped inside together and Rey eyed as Ben extended his own identification card to a scanning device. It glowed green and he pressed the first floor, waiting for the doors to fully close to isolate them.

 

They lifted, rocking their balance. 

 

He mumbled. “The cameras do not have sound.”

 

Rey’s expression refused to show the empathy that shared the sentiment of her words. “I know I can trust you, Ben. It was a better decision to take this entrance instead.”

 

"Thank you."

 

"You're welcome."

 

"Okay." 

 

_ "Okay."  _

 

“My  _ only _ job is to protect you.” He could practically hear the president’s voice echo in his head. “Even when I’m not working, I can’t fathom anything ever happening to you. Rey, I just want you to feel safe. You are my only priority tonight." 

 

“You’re  _ the only person _ I feel safe with.”

 

Ben glanced at his feet, shielding the hint of a smile from the camera.

 

The elevator reached the first floor of the National Gallery of Art. Before the doors could fully open, the lift had already been filled with jazz music and boisterous voices. 

 

“You look absolutely beautiful,” he whispered, just loud enough for only them to hear.  

 

Rey smiled to herself and the doors whizzed open, releasing them into the event. A saxophone purred just as a nicely-dressed butler passed their view, carrying a platter of hors d’oeuvre. 

 

She stepped out, turning towards him. 

 

Ben trailed his eyes slowly, devouring the sight in front of him. The dress she wore was olive and made with layers of sheath material. It pulled tightly around her collar, yet still dipped into her cleavage. If losing his job meant being able to follow Rey to Philadelphia, then that's just what he was going to have to do.

 

“You look groovy,” she winked, and despite the prang in his chest for the reminder of that godforsaken eighties nightclub, the comment still warmed his heart beneath.

 

⟵♡⟶

 

“Holy shi —” 

 

“Cut it out.”

 

_ “Is that an Elie Saab?” _ Poe grasped her hand, giving a spin to fully see the dress.

 

Rey rolled her eyes, yet her cheeks flustered. She silently pleaded the pink was disguised beneath a carefully placed shade of blush that was applied a few short hours ago by a cosmetologist. “It  _ might _ be.” 

 

“I can’t believe you get designer dresses.” 

 

She shrugged. 

 

“So,” his voice trailed off. It became blanketed by the clatter of silverware and a rather beautiful solo on the trumpet. He didn’t even necessary have to speak the words for Rey to understand where he was going; what he was about to prod about. 

 

“Yes,” she nodded. “I rehearsed all last night.”

 

A lie. She was moaning Ben’s name. 

 

“Good, that’s great. Amilyn may have mentioned this to you already, but the organizers want to livestream your speech on the news as well. They expect millions to tune in. So, make sure —” 

 

Rey’s face drained of color, probably even reaping the pink of the blush. 

 

“— She hasn’t told you.” 

 

“It’s fine.”

 

“Rey.”

 

“It’ll be totally fine. I’m fine.”

 

Poe placed his hands firmly on her shoulders, forcing her to steady herself. He dipped his chin low, fixating all his attention on her, and only her. His eyes had a way of deducing absolutely anyone, and she could suddenly understand why Finn had been so smitten. “Look at me.”

 

“I’m f—” 

 

He interjected, ignoring the peering eyes of others and the  _ very, very _ stern look coming from Agent Solo across the room. “Do you think I wasn’t nervous when I spoke at the demonstration? That I wasn’t shaking beneath that podium? Do you think I remembered every single word perfectly?” 

 

Rey surrendered; growing increasingly silent. 

 

“No,” he shook his head defiantly. “No one is a perfect orator, not even your father. Just relax, and pretend you’re speaking to the kids we met on the road this summer. Let their energy guide you.” 

 

She nodded. 

 

“Remember the saying?”

 

“The saying?”

 

“Hope is like the sun. If you only believe in it when you can see it —”

 

Rey joined in, harmonizing with him. “— You’ll never make it through the night.” 

 

“You got this, kid.”

 

⟵♡⟶

 

 

Ben had completed his rounds. He lapped the entire length of the art gallery, ensuring every operative was in their position and that their earpieces were working sufficiently. 

 

Not once  — ever — did he lose sight of Rey in the crowded ballroom. 

 

Even now, as she ran through the splitting crowd to collapse into Finn’s arms, he tentatively watched. Her arms were tightly wrapped around her friend as her eyes closed, sinking into him. He used the moment to flicker his eyes away. Other than himself, Ben knew he could trust her in the company of those two. 

 

He searched the crowd of guests for the president. He needed to ask him a question. 

 

 

⟵♡⟶

 

“—I wanted you to hear it from me.” Her words were soft and quiet. They were only shared between the two of them and kept confined in the shelter of their embrace. She felt Finn squeeze harder, if it were even possible.

 

“Oh, babe.” Finn chuckled. “I already knew.”  

 

Rey frowned, opening her eyes. She kept her head tucked near his cheeks, her eyes focused over his shoulder. Poe was heckling the disc jockey, handing him their awfully scribed list of power ballads from the eighties. “You —  _ what?”  _

 

“You always get your agents fired. When he lasted more than two weeks, I knew you two were fucking. You may be able to fool this entire country, but you cannot fool your best friend.”

 

She escaped the hug just enough to land a balled fist against his chest. Finn grinned, fully exposing his teeth, and only responded with harder laughter.

 

"You look good, by the way."

 

"Thanks," Finn smoothed down the front of his suit. "It's Poe's. I wanted to wear a tan suit like Obama."

 

"He might actually be here," Rey mumbled, glancing around the room. "I know my dad invited a bunch of politicians."  

 

"Wait," Finn choked on his sliced baguette. "—Excuse me, what?" 

 

"I'm fucking with you."

 

Finn's face drained of expression, but it had been payback for his earlier comments. 

 

"Actually," Rey changed the subject. "Do your parents know you're here?" 

 

 

 

Her best friend shrugged. "I don't really care about their disapproval anymore."

 

"Huh," Rey smiled. "You aren't grounded? They didn't take away your Tesla?" 

 

"Oh, I'm definitely in trouble for running away on a national tour with the president. But, I think they knew I wasn't about to let you take down a lucrative mob of lobbyists all by yourself. Plus, who else is going to keep you out of trouble?"

 

"You and I are a recipe _for_ trouble."

 

Finn smiled. "That's why we have Agent Solo to clean up our mess." 

 

⟵♡⟶

  
  


**\- Washington D.C. News | 8:32 PM -**

**@DCNews:** We are at the National Gallery of Art with live coverage for President Kenobi’s "Our Only Hope" event. Tune in at 9pm EST for Rey Kenobi’s (@ReyKenobi) speech to honor her father.

 

**\- Kenobi Updates | 8:35 PM -**

**@KUWTK:** @DCNews I’LL BE TUNING IN. 

 

**\- Rey Daily | 8:36 PM -**

**@ReyDay:** @DCNews Can we get pictures since she skipped the red carpet? 

 

**\- Kenobi Updates | 8:39 PM -**

**@KUWTK:** @ReyDay Security seems tighter than usual. 

 

**\- Rey Daily | 8:42 PM -**

**@ReyDay:** @KUWTK Prob. has something to do with the Seattle incident? When those reporters rushed her???

 

**\- Kenobi Updates | 8:57 PM -**

**@KUWTK:** @ReyDay Another day I’m grateful for her bodyguard. 

 

⟵♡⟶

 

Rey was astounded. She stood breathless, staring at the wall of art. Up close, the streaks of color were just dabs or aimless shapes. Yet, from further away, they compiled together into a beautiful, breathtaking masterpiece. It was good enough to land in this very museum, for her to peer upon. 

 

Her heels tapped on the surface of the marbled flooring as she journeyed through the art gallery. As she wandered, the startling noises of the main ballroom begun to quiet down, the further she ventured. 

 

_ Rey? _

 

The voice startled her. 

 

She glanced over her own shoulder, ensuring no one had escaped the party to follow her. She was almost certain she was on camera. She knew she was safe. She knew Ben wouldn’t let her wander off for too, too long. 

 

Seemingly, a tangible force glittered through the air. It sucked her forward, pulling her into the gravity of the empty wing. Dazed, and mildly curious, she followed her own sense of intrusiveness. 

 

When she rounded the corner, she felt overwhelmed by her own emotions. The walls were covered, floor to ceiling, in portraits of the previous presidents. 

 

As she walked past, she felt their eyes follow. 

 

> _ “Again.” _
> 
>  
> 
> _ “Mom,” Rey whined. “I’m tired.” _
> 
>  
> 
> _ “We cannot have the daughter of Vermont’s governor failing her social studies test.” _
> 
>  
> 
> _ She sighed, taking a deep breath. “Washington, Adams, Jefferson, Madison, Monroe, Quincy Adams, Jackson, Buren, Harrison, Tyler, Polk _ —”  _ She hesitated, thinking about it. “— Taylor?” _
> 
>  
> 
> _ Her mother nodded.  _
> 
>  
> 
> _ “— Taylor, Fillmore, Pierce, Lincoln —”  _
> 
>  
> 
> _ “No.” _
> 
>  
> 
> _ “Grant?”  _
> 
>  
> 
> _ “No, Rey. Buchanan, Lincoln, Johnson, and then Grant. Try again.” _
> 
>  
> 
> _ “Mom,” she wailed.  _
> 
>  
> 
> _ “Please, Rey. We have people to impress.”  _

 

Rey smiled to herself. Her pace quickened, almost skipping down the hall. With each portrait she passed, she pointed. “Hoover. Roosevelt. Truman. Eisenhower. Kenn—”

 

_ “Aah,” _ a bone-chilling laughter begun from elsewhere. It practically sucked the energy, swallowing and dimming the light of the room she was occupying. “The girl I’ve heard so much about.”

 

It was terrifyingly impossible to describe the lewd feeling that coated her entire body. It saturated her bone marrow in something poisonous, leaving her out to dry. She was frozen in place, her eyes fixated on the painting of John F. Kennedy. Behind herself, she could hear footsteps approaching. 

 

“I figured I’d find you here… chasing the legacies of others.” 

 

He had no sense of urgency. It was a game to him. He was on a hunt. 

 

“I see,” he continued. “That in reality… you are merely just a child. Are you even old enough to vote?” 

 

She refused to speak. The creature she had only seen on television was standing in the very same room as her, breathing her air. She didn’t even have to see him to know. He carried an eerie aura, leaving the remnants of splattered blood in his wake.  

 

“Still that fiery spit of hope,” he sneered at her silence. Further down the same hallway, he approached the portrait of her own father. She could vividly remember the day it had been painted.  _ “You have the spirit of a true Kenobi.” _

 

“Do not —” Rey finally landed her eyes on him, confirming her suspicions. She snapped, harshly. “ _ Do not _ speak about my father.” 

 

Snoke's objective was to crawl into Rey's head, right before her speech. He wanted to taint her alertness and make her choke. She already knew it, but she indulged him anyway. He was jeering now, cracking more quips.

 

“Who do you think invited me?”

 

Rey's eyes narrowed. She felt her fists ball up the way Ben had showed her one night. 

 

The man —  _ if you could even describe him as such _ — took a few steps closer. He was beginning to close in on her, sharpening the gap that separated them. 

 

“Why—Why are you here?”

 

“Why?” He repeated. “Well,  _ for you, _ of course.”

 

Rey faltered. 

 

“Don’t look so flattered,” he chortled. “I only came to hear you speak in person. So, tomorrow, I can counter your arguments and further exploit your naive opinions on how American politics work.” 

 

Rey’s mouth opened, but nothing came out. 

 

Instead, another voice interjected.  _ “That’s enough.” _

 

At the threshold, Ben’s gaze shifted between Rey and Snoke. They were only inches apart from one another, and judging by Rey’s balled fists, he had interrupted at the perfect moment. 

 

_“Miss Kenobi,”_ he spoke articulately, searching her eyes to communicate in a way only she’d understand. “You’re being summoned to the stage.”

 

Rey released her tension, opening her palms. She exhaled — finally. She had never been so happy to see Ben before.

 

His hand grazed her bare forearm, and Snoke eyed the gesture suspiciously. 

 

“Don’t forget to smile, darling.” He called out as the two of them disappeared. He took a heavy swing of his drink. “It’s a party.” 

 

⟵♡⟶

 

Their pace was quicker on the venture back.

 

“What did I tell you about running off?” He pleaded.

 

“I figured you’d follow me,” Rey admitted. “Did _ you _ know he’d be here?”

 

Ben neglected a response. Instead, they rounded the corner to the stage. A group of security guards let them through. It was all happening too quickly. Amilyn was already in her peripheral, trudging forward with cue-cards and last minute prep. 

 

“Of course you knew,” Rey continued. “Why did I bother asking?”

 

“I didn’t think it’d be a big deal,” Ben admitted. “It doesn’t change anything.”

 

“You didn’t think it’d be a big deal that my dad’s campaign adversary would be at my first public event? After he denounced me not even a week ago? I couldn’t be afforded a warning?”

 

“Your father didn’t want you to back out. He knew you could do it, regardless.”

 

“My father —” Rey begun, only to be interrupted. The sight of her dad pushing through the curtains made her heart stop. It was the first time she had seen him at the gala and he was frantic, seemingly in pursuit of something just as much as she was. His gaze landed on her and Ben. She took a step away from him. 

 

An announcement said her name, but she was hardly paying attention. 

 

Rey couldn't sputter a word before arms engulfed her. She felt her entire being nuzzle into the familiar embrace of a fatherly hug. She couldn’t find the strength to pull herself away, even if she wanted to. 

 

Throughout the gallery, the crowd was calming from an applause. Somewhere, she could feel Amilyn ushering her to the stage with tense looks and stern whispers. She was careful not to intrude on the moment.

 

It was rare to see Kenobi and his daughter _like this._ Even Ben had backed away. 

 

Yet, Rey only squeezed harder. She swam in her father’s unconditional and outright love for her. 

 

She just couldn’t fathom letting go.

 

> _ The day her father was elected, she didn’t smile at the cameras, she didn’t watch the flags wave or the citizens shout their given name. Her eyes fixated on the man that was twice her size and had never looked more accomplished or proud before. _
> 
>  
> 
> _ Spotlights eclipsed a shadow on her face, her father was so bright. _
> 
>  
> 
> _ He turned, smiling at his daughter. _

 

To better kiss the top of her head, his chin met his chest. It only brought them closer. 

 

“I am so proud of you.”

 

Finally, Rey wept.

 

She hid the tears in the chest of his tuxedo, closing her eyes. Who cares if her appearance would be ruined. This moment  — right here — meant more to her.

 

The spotlights faded, the jeering blurred, and all that was left was them  —  _ father and daughter;  dove and an eagle _ —  accepting one another’s hug. Securely molded in the usual place, Rey allowed his fingers to intuitively comb her tangled strands just as they always did when she was a child. 

 

His words thawed Rey.

 

_ "Rey — We need to get you on stage."  _

 

_ "Please."  _

 

_ "They're waiting." _

 

**Nothing** on the planet could steal those six words from her. Not even losing a presidency.

 

It was the only approval she sought for, and she finally got it.

 

“Dad...” Rey muttered, her head compressed against his chest. 

 

When she closed her eyes, the only person she could visualize was Ben. 

> _“Dad, please do not fire Agent—!”_
> 
> _Rey froze._
> 
> _Her father donned amusement, his hand outstretched to Agent Solo._
> 
>  
> 
>  
> 
> _Forgiveness had already settled into his eyes. Even back then, he looked at her the way he did now._

 

"I have so much to tell you.”

 

“I know,” her father took her hand, squeezing it.

 

_ I’m with Ben and I’m happy. I think you already know.  _ Her mouth was open but the words refused to be seduced by gravity. Instead, she inhaled his scent. He still smelled like Vermont and like home, she just hadn’t hugged him enough to realize it. 

 

“I’m your father,” he mumbled. “I know everything.”  _ I’m the President of the United States. I know everything. _

 

His eyes flickered, enticing Rey to further prod and question him. Except the crowd was waiting, and the stage was whispering her name — an eerie yet welcoming whisper in their silence.  Everything felt closer to reassurance than eagerness. She didn’t feel hurried, when she should be. Whatever anxiety that monster had attempted to numb her with, had already melted away.

 

The outlying blur was beginning to come into focus. 

 

“I’m sor —” She begun.

 

“It’s okay,” her father interrupted, shaking his head. “We can discuss later, when we’re back in Vermont. This is your time now, little dove.” 

 

Rey paused, rendering his words. His eyes were leaking of tears, and hope. But she nodded and took a step away from him. She drew herself further and further, but kept her hand extended. She refused to let go of his grip, clasping onto her anchor for as long as she possibly could. 

 

She just couldn't — _let him go._

 

Obi-Wan Kenobi opened his palm, releasing his daughter. He nodded assuredly. 

 

And Rey turned, accepting the blessing by climbing onto the stage and approaching the podium, that had now belonged to her and her only. 

 

⟵♡⟶

 

Never — not once — in Rey’s entire life, had she imagined herself being the Kenobi onstage, standing before a crowd, while blanketed in light. She spoke, a lot, but hardly had anyone to listen.  

 

She inhaled, deeply. It was the type of breath that made your ears turn red and your eyes tear up a bit. She shuddered, praying it wasn't visible to the audience. 

 

They were encompassed by utter darkness, but she knew they existed. She could feel their eyes, following her, like the portraits in the hallway. 

 

_The scavenger that collected bugs in the south lawn had done quite well for herself,_ she thought. 

 

Rey had already forgiven Ben. She knew now, that her father had invited Snoke for one reason:  _ because he knew Rey absolutely, undoubtedly terrified him. _

 

She finally released the exhale. 

 

“I want to start off by thanking the gallery for granting us permission to host our event in their museum, for the hardworking volunteers that made it all possible, and the Americans that voted for my father.” 

 

She sunk her teeth into the words. They were addicting. She could get used to this. 

 

“This all started when I attended a demonstration in the spring. I was  _ captivated _ by the voice of our younger generation, and realized that no one was listening to what they had to say. I wanted that to change, and I knew that would only happen if I was capable of changing myself first.” 

 

She felt her pace grow stronger, her enunciation becoming more proper. She felt the power being emitted off her platform and how it fed it into the microphone for others to buzz off of. 

 

Eventually, she ignored the script in front of her hands completely and  _ just spoke _ to the audience. 

 

It couldn’t have been real. Was this what it felt like? To be an eagle? 

 

⟵♡⟶

 

Ben was standing in the back, his hand clasped over his chest. He let his eyes fixate on her, trying not to smile. 

 

He had no idea when his  _ new assignment _ turned  _ into the best thing to ever happen to him _ — but seeing Rey on that stage, presenting beneath a flag of stripes and stars — and effortlessly addressing a room full of strangers made every moment of doubt worth it. The bickering. The arguing. The deprivation for sanity after their first kiss. 

 

She had grown up so much in the short amount of time and he was proud. He was  _ so _ proud of her, he could practically feel his ribs cramping. Just like —

 

“Anyone else seeing this?” A voice asked in the earpiece. 

 

It crumbled the moment into pieces. Immediately, Ben turned his attention to the audience and scanned the length of the room.

 

A woman sat by herself, dipping her shrimp into marinade sauce. 

 

Finn and Poe were holding hands beneath their table. 

 

The men at table four were speaking Polish. 

 

Someone was urgently rushing through the dining hall. 

 

Immediately, his eyes followed the person until they disappeared amongst the shadows. He took a step forward, pressing the button of his earpiece. 

 

“Ten o’clock. Three-piece suit. Blonde hair.” 

 

He froze.  _ Where the hell had he spoken those words before?  _

 

Through the maze of decorated seating and buffet tables, the secret service instantly copied his message before weaving the room; convoying the suspicious figure. They were cutting corners, allowing their pace to quicken without alarming the guests, or interrupting Rey’s speech.

 

_ Rey.  _

 

Her voice echoed throughout the art gallery’s corridors, delivering the prepared words of her speech. Yet, somehow, it felt like a whisper in his ear. He melted into the tone, into her, but only found the lingering scent of morning dew in Ireland.  

 

He was stuck in place, incapable of accepting the inevitable. His heart continued to sprint, chasing the room that spun around him. 

 

It happened  _ so _ fast,  _ too _ fast.

 

The president was sitting only a few tables away, but Rey was on the stage. 

 

He had to decide. 

 

> _ “I walked my route and I watched the crowd. It was like any other affair.” _
> 
>  
> 
> _ Until, it wasn’t. _
> 
>  
> 
> _ “Something was off, though. My stomach did the same instinctual rotational when we were summoned to the battlefield. The same nosedive when we received the midnight call about my mother. I felt like I was going to be physically sick and the moment I turned, I —”  _

 

“Agent Solo?” A voice questioned in his earpiece.  

 

Ben pulled his gun from the holster, firmly holding it up.

 

⟵♡⟶

 

Months and months and months of traveling the United States to spiel the violence of it, yet Rey had never  _ actually _ heard the sound of genuine gunshot before. 

 

She looked across the room and met his eyes, and it was like the earth between them had ripped apart. There was a chasm between them, and it only grew larger, and stronger by the second. It consumed them whole, and there was nothing left they could do to stop it from happening.  

 

Her ears were ringing, a bizarre pounding that reverberated up her spine and through her skull. 

 

After just the first pop, there was hardly a second to process what had just happened before the scene erupted into pandemonium. More littered the art gallery, sending shells onto the flooring in crackled fireworks. 

 

Someone — somewhere — was screaming her name. 

 

> _ “We shouldn’t.” _
> 
>  
> 
> _ “I know.” _

 

Her cheek met the cold floor beneath the weight of another before it all went dark. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First and foremost, I want to thank [Klaudia](https://twitter.com/bensforce) for her patience and assistance with building this story. She was my voice of reason and the first person I ever told this crazy, crazy idea to. Without her persuading me, I probably would have never uploaded. ♡ 
> 
> Now reader... please, come take a seat. Let's talk.
> 
> I know it is frustrating. This was always the intended ending, and if you consider a binge re-read, you'll discover that there are easter eggs as early as chapter two. In fact, I believe almost every single chapter practically shouts the ending in your face for a line, or two. 
> 
> I like foreshadowing and pain, I guess. 
> 
> I want to thank you for your support, your comments and your kudos. The love is what keeps a writer going and I encourage you to always give feedback to your authors, not just me. Without it, sometimes we feel like no one is listening and consider abandoning works. So thank you so much for being loud and expressing your thoughts to me. 
> 
> This story is not over. 
> 
> Dove and an Eagle is the intended sequel and I think reylo deserves a happy ending in this au. If you would like to continue reading, please consider subscribing to the series [here](https://archiveofourown.org/series/1137746) or subscribing to me as an author on my profile page. I also have a new modern setting au called "Under the Table" that you can read [here](https://archiveofourown.org/works/17238530/chapters/40538597). ♡
> 
> I am currently drafting the first chapter of d&ae. It will have a coherent and planned story, just like o&aa did. So, expect a first chapter very, very soon! 
> 
> If you have any questions or concerns, or just want to yell at me, you can do so on [Twitter](https://twitter.com/sadboykylo).

**Author's Note:**

> This story is the first part of two books. 
> 
> ♡ A huge uwu thank you to Klaudia [(bensforce)](https://twitter.com/bensforce) for being my best friend and pushing to publish this work.


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